


A Picture for a Poet

by MercurySkies



Series: A Picture for a Poet [1]
Category: Glee, klaine - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angst, Drama, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-07 17:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 52,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurySkies/pseuds/MercurySkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Convenient is all he ever was. It's stupid to fall in love, because when no one ends up loving you back, with the same vehemence, with the same passion, then that's all you are, a convenience.'</p><p>Blaine moved to New York to pursue his dreams of making art and helping people but falling in love with the wrong guy meant things began to fall apart. Desperate to keep on pursuing his artistic dreams an 19 year old Blaine puts out an ad for a new roomie and who should respond but 28 year old writer Kurt Elizabeth Hummel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An Older!Writer!Kurt and Artist!Blaine AU.
> 
> Hi this fic has been complete for over a year now but I'm relatively new to AO3 so I'm in the process of uploading everything here as well.
> 
> Trigger warnings: some violence, mentions of drug and alcohol use (neither Kurt or Blaine), implied abuse (not within Klaine).

It all started with Blaine's fucking asshole of a boyfriend Jonah. Blaine had arrived home after his shift at the bookstore, unlocked the door to their shitty box apartment and come face to face with his boyfriend fucking some hopped up meathead with atrocious tattoos against the kitchen counter. He gave him three hours to get out of Mr Steroids and out of the apartment.

 

If Blaine was honest he had seen it coming. They'd been together since his first year of college, both art majors, Blaine wide eyed and in awe of the city, young, naïve and idealistic. Along Jonah had come, with his surrealism and so-called Bohemian mentality and these  _ideas_. Long story short he fell in love. He fell in love with a lazy, self-righteous, manipulative asshole. He learnt through countless close encounters, and degrading down talk that he was just supposed to be a quick fuck but as he came to learn sticking around was more convenient.

 

Convenient is all he ever was. It's stupid to fall in love, because when no one ends up loving you back, with the same vehemence, with the same passion, then that's all you are, a convenience. He should've known when Jonah remained jobless, slept until noon and smoked everything under the sun everyday. He should've known when Andrea tried to tell him what really happened at Ted's that night. With every screaming match they had and every blow Jonah very nearly landed he was in love. Mornings with paint and coffee and cigarettes and the cool burn of winter air filtering through the cracks in their ancient walls filled him, completed him. The simple contentment of whispered words and succulent, sweaty promises, it was all pretence and it's stupid to fall in love.

 

Precisely three hours later and he came back to an apartment that was even more wrecked than how he'd left it. His easel,  _his_ easel was completely destroyed. An antique he'd spent months saving for and it was in pieces along with a note that simply read ‘I hope you're happy'. Blaine wasn't happy, he was so far from happy that he'd considered giving it all up. Jonah certainly wasn't going to pay his half of the rent anymore and where was he going to go with a two bit job at a bookstore and an art degree? God he sounded like his father.

 

It was for that reason that he didn't. Spending the entirety of your adolescence trying to please someone who perpetually disapproved tends to force someone into rebellion. He graduated and dragged himself to New York as soon as he could. He worked hard to get the money together, minimal loans and had to stoop as low as begging his parents to help fund his education but he made it. He made it to New York to pursue his dream. Granted that dream wasn't yet a reality but it would kill him to give it up, if only for his hatred of that self satisfied look he knew his father would try to hide as he opened his door to find his son standing with all his worldly possessions on his doorstep. Blaine would not give up his art for the world, but he still had bills to pay, loans to pay, tuition to pay, rent and food and utilities. He was just one man on a student's income, alone with no heat and no inspiration. So something had to be done. He needed a flatmate.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Six ads and one month without heat and a reliable electricity supply and he finally received a response. It came in the form of an email from one Kurt Hummel, simple and to the point arranging a day for when he could go and view the apartment. It seemed legitimate, so Blaine didn't hesitate to reply; besides he was beyond desperate, a few more days and he would have been starving.

 

He tried his best to make the place look at least vaguely appealing but with the wall paper pealing off and the water stains on the ceilings very little could actually be done. He brought flowers and strategically placed some of his ‘prettier' paintings over the cracks in the walls and skirting boards but the place still looked decrepit and just plain shabby. So, after unsuccessfully trying to spruce up the apartment he resigned himself to an afternoon of playing the waiting game. Kurt had stated he could only view the place sometime between three and five and Blaine had asked him if he could be more specific but Kurt, as it so happened was a writer, and that apparently was reason enough to be unsure.

 

Blaine stretched out on the couch, his head and feet dangling off the arms as he stared at the mottled ceiling and waited. The electricity was off again so the only light in the apartment came from the setting sun as it filtered over the iron fire escape and in through the high arch windows that always stuck when it rained. His mind trailed lazily from thought to thought and his eye lids were just beginning to droop when there was a knock on the door.

 

He shuffled over, determined to make a good impression. After all, after a month it was still the only offer he'd received. Blaine opened the door expecting to meet this Kurt Hummel but instead he took one look at the person standing in the hall and immediately shut it again, locking and bolting it before sliding down the wood to slump on the floor.

 

"Baaaaby pleeease!"

"FUCK OFF JONAH!" Blaine yelled through the door, listening to the man's heavy breathing and the fruitless pounding of his fists against the splintering wood of the door frame. "Blaine, baby please, I'm sorry I really am baby." Jonah begged, or at least that's probably what he was aiming for, but he was far from desperate, the words sounding insincere and meaningless. "No you're not Jo," Blaine said quietly, pulling his knees to his chest "leave, go, please."

"Blaine I lo-"

"Don't-" Blaine choked out, "you don't. Leave. Now!"

"God damn it Blaine! Open the door or I swear-" Jonah screamed, the door creaking in protest as he slammed into it. Blaine was about to shout back, inches away from calling the police when he heard another voice filter through the cracks in the battered door from the hallway.

 

"The man told you to leave," a voice, high but strong and sharp sounded through the chaos "I think you should do what he says." Blaine scrambled to his feet and unlatched the door. He pulled it open just a tiny bit; making sure the door chain was across, just enough so that he could see out into the hallway. The man tipped his head toward the door, steely blue eyes watching as Blaine cowered some what pathetically behind it. Jonah scowled, following the man's gaze and noticing the door slightly ajar he lunged at it.

 

Eyes widening Blaine jumped to try and slam the door shut again, only he was a few seconds too late. Shaking hands unable to latch it quick enough the door was thrown open, catching Blaine in the ribs with a sickening crack, throwing him backwards, the chain ripping away from the frame. Jonah hovered over him in the doorway, his forehead beading with sweat as he trembled, his eyes bloodshot and wild.  _Oh_. Blaine scrambled back clutching at his side. He opened his mouth to yell, to ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing, anything but didn't have to when the man from the hallway hauled Jonah from the apartment by the back of his shirt. He slammed the door behind him bellowing "LOCK IT! NOW!"

 

Blaine crawled toward the door, fingers fumbling with the locks, slamming the bolt across with much more force than necessary and fiddling futilely with the obliterated door chain before sliding to the floor, wincing at the pain in his side. All that could be heard above the pounding of blood in his ears was the muffled shouts, yelps and scuffling beyond the door.

 

He stayed silent, leaning against the wall next to the door, breathing harshly and shaking with adrenaline as the echoing shouts and shuffling died away and came to a halt.  He wrapped his arms around his torso gingerly, trying to avoid putting any pressure on his throbbing left side and make himself as small as possible at the same time. There was a knock on the door.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Blaine stiffened sharply, waiting for the pounding and ungodly shouting to strike up again but all that came was the soft murmur of the man's voice. "Blaine? It's alright, he's gone." He said softly. A pause followed before he spoke again, voice even and quiet, like he was placating a frightened animal. "Are you- are you okay?" He asked through the wood, soothing voice laced with concern. Blaine rose shakily to his feet, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath as he unlocked the door and pulled it open slowly. At first he didn't notice the man, eyes too busy furtively scanning the hallway for any sign of Jonah but then he spotted him, standing tall and regal right in front of him, his eyes, the precise colour of which undeterminable, were soft and kind looking in the flickering orange light of the buzzing bulb hanging from the hallway ceiling. The man dabbed at his bleeding lip gingerly with the back of his hand. It seemed strange to Blaine that he was smiling.

 

"Oh my god" Blaine whispered in shock "You're bleeding, come in," he said ushering the man into his apartment, trying not to hiss or wince with every step he took "let me help you with that." Blaine steered the man toward the kitchen island before hobbling away to find a cloth and some ice. It didn't go unnoticed by the man that he seemed to brace himself before he took every step, his teeth boring down on his bottom lip with every twist his torso made. By the time he'd returned, his breathing was ragged, his teeth almost tearing through his lip. Blaine leant down to dab softly at the man's cut lip, his face close enough for the stranger to see the pain flash in his honey gold eyes.

 

"Stop," he said gently, taking the cloth from his hands and manoeuvring Blaine gently back "it looks like you need taking care of more than I do." Blaine opened his mouth to protest, reaching for the cloth again and letting out a small yelp at the jerky movement. Pain shot through him, causing black spots to form across his field of vision and his stomach to churn nauseatingly. The stranger's soft hands steadied him as he swayed on his feet.

 

"Blaine? Blaine? Shit, we need to get you to hospital, get you checked out. Can I take a look at your ribs?" Blaine didn't answer the question, his head rushing with blood and cloudy with pain. "How d'you know my name?" He asked dazedly. "My name's Kurt Hummel," he grinned "hi roomie."

 

Blaine snorted. "Ha like you'd wanna move in here now." He said bitterly. He was going to have to live on the streets, sell his art and his materials for money to pay for dirty rooms in cheap motels until he had nothing left all because his asshole of an ex-boyfriend beat the shit out of his only potential flatmate. Blaine tried to wrench himself from Kurt's grasp but almost vomited in the process. "Lift your shirt and let me see." Kurt said sternly and Blaine glared at him, trembling with the effort to hold back tears. "I said," Kurt repeated, his voice strong and unwavering "lift your shirt and let me see."

 

Blaine did as he was told reluctantly, his head turned away as he heard Kurt's sharp intake of breath. The left side of Blaine's torso was already marred with the beginnings of a garish purple bruise, spreading and darkening quickly across the smooth tan skin covering his ribcage. Blaine slowly lowered his shirt, and stood studiously avoiding eye contact. "Shit Blaine," Kurt exclaimed "that fucking bastard, I swear to god it's a good job he high tailed it out of the building pretty quickly after I kicked him in the balls."

"Err thanks?" Blaine muttered confusedly with a small smile. A blush stained his cheeks as Kurt's thumbs brushed the strip of skin exposed where the shirt he was wearing had ridden up above his hips. "Seriously though," Kurt continued, hands jerking away from Blaine's skin "we need to get you to a hospital and get you checked out, looks like a few of your ribs might be bruised if not broken."

 

"Can't" Blaine mumbled, shaking his head.

"Bullshit baby, you're in so much pain you can barely stand."

"I can't afford it. I don't have any money."

"Well your insurance will-"

"Don't have any of that either."

 

"Christ Blaine how are you even alive right now?"

"I'm a poor college student, I get by." He shrugged, wincing at the movement and letting out a long sigh "I get paid on Thursday I can make it until then."

"Don't be an idiot that's three days away. I'll cover it and you can make it up to me."

"I really don't think-"

"Come on Blaine," Kurt whined, cutting him off "It's the least I can do."

"You've already beaten off my crazy ex-boyfriend." Blaine stated seriously.

"Well then I guess I'm just your knight in shining armour." Kurt grinned

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

It wasn't until Blaine was sitting shirtless on a gurney with an old, scrawny looking doctor poking and prodding at his side that Blaine learnt that Kurt was nine years his senior. At first he was genuinely shocked. He'd assumed he was a little older, maybe a year or two, but it seemed that Kurt withheld the kind of otherworldly beauty that stood the test of time, eternal youth, so to speak. At the sight of Blaine's gaping Kurt had scoffed and replied simply with "Twenty eight is not at all old Blaine shut up."

 

It was not that Blaine minded in the least that his new flatmate was quite a bit older than him. Kurt was kind and quick witted and was equipped with a sense of humour that had Blaine laughing and smiling more than he had in years. He liked him instantly, so much that without any further consideration he offered Kurt the place. With a beaming smile, eyes twinkling with promise he agreed, without hesitation or second thought.

 

The doctor, Hale his name was, wrapped Blaine's ribs with little care and many a disdainful glance, yet Blaine couldn't decide whether it was his obvious youth, paint still streaked through his hair and a tattoo dancing across the undamaged skin of his right side or the fact that the pain had had him so close to tears that Kurt had taken to holding his hand. Hospitals had always been disconcerting to Blaine and surprisingly Kurt had been able to sense it from the moment they stepped through the door and the scent of disinfectant, vomit and illness had washed over them like a tidal wave of anxiety. It stands to reason that a stranger would know him better than those who had known him his whole life.

 

Getting back to the apartment proved just as difficult as leaving it. Every jolt on the road caused pain to spike in Blaine's side and he prayed for the New York traffic to move faster, anything that could get him closer to home and taking his pain medication. A sudden stop and Blaine was slammed forward, the seat belt cutting harshly at his torso. Pain ripped through him so violently he was on the verge of passing out and the next thing he knew he was at the sidewalk, slumped onto the curb as he vomited into the gutter, Kurt brushing his curls back and out of his watering eyes.

 

"If you're comfortable with it I'd like to stay with you tonight." Kurt asked softly, chewing on his bottom lip and looking down at Blaine with a furrowed brow. Blaine stared up at him quizzically, "why?" he asked bemusedly.

"Because although we've only just met you I can already tell that you're an idiot-"

"Hey!"

"But you're charming and cute and I'll worry if I don't." Kurt added with finality. Blaine let out a muffled laugh; there was apparently no arguing with Kurt Hummel.

"Sure fine whatever, save me from throwing myself from the fire escape once I'm hyped up on the meds. My hero once again."

 

Medication administered and confined to the couch Blaine appeared small, younger and more vulnerable than he seemed whilst mobile. Kurt bustled about, familiarising himself with his new home as Blaine watched him from a cocoon of blankets with a small vague smile gracing his lips. "You're beautiful!" He sing-songed with a grin and the joyous childlike lilt to his speech the pain medication clearly afforded made Kurt grin and turn to look at the man. "It's true, yo-you are truly breathtaking." Kurt's smile dropped slightly, noticing an indiscernible look in Blaine's glistening eyes that made him uneasy. It was just the medication talking. "But you're old!" Blaine giggled and Kurt let out an indignant huff. "I am not old!"

"You're almost a decade older than me!" Blaine challenged.

"Yes 'almost' being the operative word honey."

 

"It's okay," Blaine slurred, eye lids drooping as he watched the sluggish path his hand took in order to eventually rest atop Kurt's "you must be ex-experienced in-in... stuff." He trailed off, blush blooming high on his cheeks. The flutter of his long lashes caused Kurt's breath to hitch in his throat, his eyes widening when he caught the man's meaning. "And are you - experienced Blaine?" Kurt asked involuntarily, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I've-I've dabbled." Blaine smiled, looking both bashful and sleepy. His hand skated over Kurt's face briefly, his cheek, his jaw, his lips, before he let it flop back to the couch cushions beneath him with a wistful sigh. "Goodnight pretty Kurt."

"Goodnight Blaine."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Brief discussion of drug use (Jonah)

It turned out that no amount of Blaine's unconscious self sabotage could deter Kurt from signing the papers that meant that they were officially flatmates. For Blaine, the first month was a blur of recovery, paperwork and trying to concentrate on his classes while an extremely attractive 28 year old in yoga pants and little else waltzed around like he owned the place. Which, of course he kind of did, or half of it anyway. It worked and Kurt, as far as Blaine could tell, wasn't a murderer or anything of the sort. Things were better and that was the most Blaine could have hoped for.

 

It's true Blaine had been expecting a fellow student to reply to his ad, perhaps just another soul who couldn't afford their own rent. What he wasn't expecting was to be confronted with an absolutely stunning, pale skinned and long legged man. He was expecting a boy like himself and in the face of Kurt Hummel that's all he was, just another little boy. It didn't help that the first encounter they'd ever had involved an emotionally distraught Blaine and a half crazy ex-boyfriend. It just went to show that he was out of his depth, struggling to keep his head above water out where the big boys swam.

 

Kurt sent him little smiles from the desk they'd set up by the window and Blaine melted on the spot every time, turning back to his art biting his lip to hide his smile and his cheeks tinted a light pink. Pathetic, juvenile and stupid. He didn't even know if Kurt was gay.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

It still hurt. His heart wasn't as broken as he thought it might be but the damage had been done and it was taking longer to heal than he truly wanted it to. Even Kurt could see it and he hardly knew anything about him or what had happened with Jonah. He knew enough though it seemed, and Blaine could see the concern in those twinkling blue eyes every time he let a sorrowful sigh escape his chest when he thought Kurt wouldn't notice. He should've known he'd notice though, from his insistence on the very first day they'd met it was obvious that nothing got past Kurt Hummel. Blaine was an open book, and that didn't make learning the truth difficult at all.

 

Friday night the first month after Kurt had moved in was a train wreck. A night out, and a few dozen drinks and Blaine was leaning heavily against the threshold as he sent away a severely disappointed boy with suspicious dirty blonde hair and eyes like  _his_. He slammed the door shut behind him and let out a heart wrenching sob, not noticing Kurt sitting quietly at his desk. He was with him in an instant, saying nothing as he held him, huddled together on the hallway floor.

 

That was the night Blaine told him everything. Every wound was ripped wide open and stitched back together again haphazardly, his heart jagged around the edges but just as whole as it had been before. They whispered into the darkness, all his hopes and dreams and regrets and fears, spilled into the void from the safety of Kurt's arms. They watched from the fire escape as the sun rose, Blaine's face dry and free of tear tracks, his eyes puffy and red behind horn-rimmed glasses. He took a drag from his fading cigarette as Kurt pressed a chipped mug of coffee into his freezing cold hands.

 

He felt Kurt's warm breath on the back of his neck and before he could react, Kurt had snatched the cigarette from him, bringing it to his own lips eyes bright in the early morning sunshine. "You shouldn't smoke." He said simply and Blaine raised an eyebrow at him.

"And you should?"

"I'm different," he replied, lifting his chin and exhaling smoke above their heads "I don't have a voice as pretty as yours. It'd be a shame to ruin it." Blaine laughed lightly, head falling to his chest. He shivered, the chill starting to permeate his thin sweater and loose pants. That's when Kurt stepped closer, his arms wrapping tightly around Blaine's waist. "You heard that huh?" Blaine smiled bashfully, settling into Kurt's arms and breathing in the sharp scent of coffee, cigarettes and the city air. "Oh I heard alright crooner, you've got a sweet, sinful tenor sweetheart." Blaine sighed dramatically.

"Music was my first love."

"So what's your art then?"

"The love of my life"

 

Kurt laughed, eyes squinting and nose crinkling. Blaine smiled.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Kurt was... so gay. His words, not Blaine's. Blaine had an inkling, with all the flirtatious comments and the mostly appropriate, _friendly_ touching, it was easy to assume. Assumptions, however, were things Blaine tended to avoid making. It had accidentally come up after an altercation in a coffee shop with one of those almost overly accepting grandmothers who also tend to refer to themselves as ‘down with the kids'. They'd been standing in line to order when Blaine had laughed so hard he tripped over his own feet as the line moved forward and almost went head first into the aforementioned grandmother and took her down. Luckily, Kurt had grabbed his waist and steadied him just in time, but the lady still took quite the hit.

 

"Oh my- I'm so sorry ma'am." Blaine stuttered out. The lady looked at them kindly, eyeing Kurt's hand on Blaine's hip knowingly.

"Don't get your feathers ruffled," she said sweetly "you two sweethearts just carry on." She winked and stepped up to the bar. Kurt removed his hand and Blaine coughed awkwardly. "I-I'm sorry," Blaine sputtered and Kurt stared at him curiously, only turning away to place their orders.

"Why are you apologising?"

"Well I'm sure it must be awkward to-"

"To what?"

"T-to have people a-assume we're -  _a thing_." Blaine trailed off as if he were divulging some kind of scandalous secret.

"Wait, is this a ‘because you're older thing' or a ‘because you're straight thing'?" Kurt inquired, trying to hide his amusement as Blaine stumbled over his words and flushed as Kurt pulled out a chair for him. "I didn't want to assume so-"

"Blaine," Kurt cut him off "I'm gay, so so gay."

"I o-okay sorry," Blaine mumbled "I don't know, she still thought we were a  _thing_."

"Can you- jeez can you stop saying ‘ _thing_ ' like it'd be some kind of sordid affair?" Kurt admonished good naturedly. "I'm honoured that she thought we were a ‘ _thing_ ', you're quite the catch Blaine Devon Anderson." Kurt winked at him as he took a sip of his coffee and Blaine's eyes got a lot wider, his heart just a little lighter with hope.

 

Hope is a funny thing. It can be small, a light fluttering in the heart and a twinkle in the eye or it can be big, a grin that stretches wide across perfect pink lips and a laugh that simply can't be contained. It's a life line, the unprecedented solution to when things just get shitty and they aren't about to get better until some unknown time in the unforeseeable future. Hope wasn't the only thing Blaine had though, he also had a crush.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

"It is not a crush!" Blaine stage whispered into his phone from the privacy of his studio turned bedroom, "Tina I-"

"Oh come on Blaine!" Tina's voice screeched through the speaker, they'd been having the same conversation for just over an hour and Tina's voice was getting uncomfortably shrill. "We haven't had a conversation that didn't feature Mr Typewriter in some capacity since September. A month, Blaine, a month you've been mooning over him, so just say something!"

"Tina! I have not been  _mooning_ ," Blaine said harshly, blushing as his voice rose at least a whole octave, "and Mr Typewriter? This isn't Middle School."

"It might as well be." Tina scoffed. Blaine made an affronted noise in the back of his throat.

"It's not a crush or anything of the sort" he haughtily replied, "he's just very attractive, and sweet and witty and beauti- OH oh my God I have a crush."

 

"Awww Blainers has a crush!"

"Fuck this is pathetic." Blaine sighed, flopping back onto his bed with a loud thump. He hated having it confirmed that he was attracted to, or okay had a ‘crush' on Kurt. Kurt who just so happened to be his roommate and almost a decade Blaine's senior. If he was being honest, things felt... tense, to say the least. It felt as if every glance was a challenge, to confess, make a move. It's not like Blaine was even bothered that Kurt was older than him, the problem was how Kurt saw it. Not only was Kurt out of his league but Blaine was always concerned with how Kurt perceived his youth, whether or not he saw him as simply inexperienced or immature and petty. Of course, Blaine knew he was none of those things but he couldn't help but doubt himself. There was something about handsome 28 year old writers that made him nervous.

 

"It's not pathetic Blaine," Tina said softly "liking someone isn't such a bad thing, it doesn't make you weak and just because Jonah-"

"Stop," he interjected forlornly, tired of talking over his issues with his ex, it was done, over and the stitches in Blaine's chest were healing steadily day by day "I haven't been sworn off men for life just because Jonah was the king of all assholes that's not the problem."

 

"Then what  _is_  the problem?"

"He's just  _Kurt_ , you know? He's talented and smart and beautiful. His personality is literally a triple threat of ‘I'm gorgeous, a fantastic writer and everything I say sounds intelligent but I'm painfully unattainable, sorry' and I'm what? I'm just some mediocre artist lacking in the height department and with a penchant for hair products." Sighing wearily, as the constant battle between reality and self-deprecation was won again by his ever present insecurities he grumbled at Tina for a good half an hour while she tried to convince him that expressing how he felt might not end in disaster. Just as they'd said their goodbyes there was a knock at his bedroom door.

 

"Um Blaine?" Kurt said quietly, eyes a steely grey, his brow etched with something that resembled anger and concern "Jonah's asking to see you and he err looks pretty rough, I didn't want to send him away without asking you first so..." He trailed off; not meeting his eyes as Blaine walked passed him in the doorway and toward the front door.

 

"I need your help" Jonah said gruffly, leaning against the doorframe and breathing harshly.

"That's rich," Kurt scoffed, sauntering up behind Blaine and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder as he scowled at their unexpected visitor "you hurt him, I don't think you really have the right to come in here and ask him for  _anything_."

"Right, and who asked you twink."

"Jonah!" Blaine growled, contemplating simply slamming the door in his face.

"No it's alright Blaine, he's just pissed he got his ass kicked by the so called ‘twink'"

 

Jonah tried his damndest to get his hands on Kurt's throat after that but he didn't succeed as Blaine pushed him back out into the hall and slammed the door behind them both. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Blaine whispered harshly, "We're done and the last time I saw you I had to go to hospital because you slammed a two inch thick hardwood door into me! What makes you think you deserve anything from me?!"

"Because you love me" Jonah said maliciously, an icy smugness saturating his demeanour. "Loved, Jonah.  _Loved_. Just tell me what you want so you can go and never come back."

 

"Fine," Jonah shifted nervously, eyes darting around the hallway, skittish and desperate as he turned back to Blaine "I need money- Blaine wait please just hear me out I-"

"No." Blaine replied simply "This is just for crack isn't it? No I'm not giving you anything."

" _Please_  Blaine, please." Jonah begged, and Blaine almost crumbled. "It's not to get anything I just need to pay Matt back for last time."

"What? You said you'd pay him later? You idiot Jo!"

"I know I know but  _please_ ," he stroked Blaine's cheek briefly, bloodshot and wild eyes darting downwards to glance at his lips "you know what Matt's like, I can't afford to end up in the hospital again baby." He brushed the curls off Blaine's forehead with a shaky smile and trembling hands.

 

Blaine's watering eyes studied the man in front of him for a while, so gentle, so tender, so... fake. A whoosh of air left his body in a resigned sigh "H-how much?"

"250." Jonah replied, rough and clammy hands still caressing his skin, his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, Blaine's eyes widened in shock "250? I can't, I need that money for rent this month. I'll be broke and I can't let Kurt pay for anything else." Jonah's gaze hardened at the mention of Kurt's name.

"Sweetheart,  _please_ " he begged for the hundredth time "you know what happened last time." Blaine did know what happened last time; he'd witnessed the result first hand. He'd expected to come home to a smiling boyfriend. Instead he was greeted by him, collapsed in the doorway of their apartment, bruised and bloodied and barely breathing. "Please, I can't just-"

"I love you." Jonah said abruptly, purely beyond desperation "Just please Blaine,  _please_. Just this and I'll be gone; I'll leave you alone, forever." Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself not to fall for it. "Okay."

 

He left him waiting in the hall while he went back into the apartment. Kurt was pacing, muttering, disgruntled and glaring at nothing in particular. Blaine brushed off his concern with a tight hug and a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. He always kept the rent money underneath the false floor in one of the draws of his bureau so it was hidden but also on hand when the land lord came to call. He took it out reluctantly, already worrying about how he was going to get all $250 back by the end of the month. Someone's safety was more important to him though.

 

He handed the money over and Jonah thanked him with a kiss, hard and long and Blaine couldn't pull away. He felt his cheeks flush as Jonah's arms wrapped tightly round his waist, pressing in close and forcing Blaine to tilt his head up, forcing him open and vulnerable. His head was screaming at him, to push him away, to yell and fight until he could no longer feel Jonah's lips upon his. His heart was split in two, hurting and yearning simultaneously, for Jonah or for someone else, something new he wasn't sure. Jonah stepped back, smiled and then left, without a word, whispered or otherwise.

 

As the door closed behind Blaine a few minutes later he was met with Kurt and his questions, the first of which was the hardest to answer purely because of what it meant. "Why did you let him kiss you?"

"Because this time it's goodbye."


	3. Chapter 3

"Do you still love him?"

"No."

"Do you still have feelings for him?"

"I don't know."

"What did he want?"

"Money"

"What for?"

"To pay someone back"

"What did he-"

"Enough. Kurt okay, please. I'm-I'm tired."

 

Even though Kurt just wanted the full picture, to be able to help Blaine in anyway he could, the stream of questions still felt like an interrogation. He appreciated it, he really did, but he couldn't bear to turn around and see the pity haunting Kurt's eyes. He couldn't fool himself into thinking that the anger and bitterness he heard in Kurt's voice was anything more than friendly concern. He just needed to be alone and sleep.

 

Kurt tried to cajole him into hanging out with him with Chinese food, hugs and Project Runway but Blaine declined, pointedly ignoring his disappointment and biting his lip. He hurried to his room, shutting the door firmly behind him. The room was strewn with sketches and pieces of art littered the walls, some framed neatly, other's hastily tacked to the too thin walls for future reference. An old desk resided in the corner by a window, rickety and wobbling and covered in paint. His fingers brushed across the notches in the wood work as he sat down with a hitching breath, eyes welling up with tears and the lump in his throat burning with the effort to hold them back. He reached for a discarded sketchbook and ripped it open, grabbing the first graphite stick his fingertips came into contact with and sketching like if he didn't, his mind, heart and soul would fall apart.

 

His shaking hands flit angrily across the page, lines jagged and thick and messy as his eyes stung. He drew Jonah, never slowing his hand or loosening his grip on the graphite. He was breathing harsh as he detailed his eyes and he was crying silently by the time he outlined his lips. The final product was menacing and sinister, it was a paper personification of all the hatred and all the fear and all the bitterness he had ever felt with or toward the man. He stared at it for a long time before he pinned it to the wall, a reminder that no matter how much someone says they love you, it's still a lie, and repetition can fool even the most sensible of people into thinking truer words have never been spoken.

 

He took to the page again and again, faintly registering the click and clack of Kurt's typewriter coming from the lounge. He wondered briefly what he was writing about, fairytales and romances or tragedies and poems about lost boys without love or a muse.  The evening dragged on and Blaine sketched until the final remnants of the sun's rays had slunk below the horizon. Eventually he noticed with a start that his hand and heart had slowed, his tears ceasing to fall. It was no longer Jonah's eyes gazing back at him from the smudged and crinkled page in front of him. They were Kurt's.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Blaine woke slowly and reluctantly, unwilling to leave slumber's safe grasp so soon. He lay with his head pillowed on his arms; eyes still tightly shut against the bright morning sunlight he knew would be streaming through the small window. He was calmer, head clear and heart lighter. He supposed it was as a result of his drawing the night before; he snorted, smiling wryly as his cheek pressed into the unforgiving wood.

 

"Either you're feeling better or you've finally gone mad." A voice Blaine recognised as Kurt's came from his left. One eye popped open and saw him leaning a hip against the desk whilst thumbing through one of Blaine's sketchbooks, dressed impeccably in gun metal grey slacks, a navy button down and silver waistcoat. Blaine didn't move for a while, just stared up at him studying his reactions as he flicked through the little book.

 

He was silent as he closed it, eyes wide and lips parted as he smiled down at Blaine still sprawled across the desk. "You- You're amazing. These," he said tapping the cover "are amazing you're insanely talented Blaine."

"Thank you." Blaine mumbled, picking his head off the wood and rubbing his check "Are you- how long have you been here?"

"A while," Kurt said slyly "you talk in your sleep."

"I- really? I haven't done that since I was eight." Blaine blushed, silently panicking about what he had let slip whilst he was unconscious.

"Don't look so terrified" Kurt smirked "I thought it was cute."

"What did I even say?" Blaine blinked slowly as Kurt stroked the heated skin of his cheek.

"Oh nothing much," he replied airily "just something about shading, some mumbling about money and you were strangely crystal clear about how gorgeous you seem to think I am." Kurt laughed, bright and loud at the look of pure mortification on Blaine's face, his sparkling eyes free of malice or cruel intention. "So I was wondering, would you like to go to dinner with me?"

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

"Stop fussing, you look unbelievable Blaine." Tina admonished half-heartedly, her smile bright as she saw the happy light in her friend's eyes.

"I'm not fussing," Blaine muttered fiddling with his emerald green bowtie for the hundredth time "I'm just-"

"Nervous! Aww you're nervous because you're going on a date with your crush!" She squealed, kicking her feet in her excitement.

"Tina, God anyone would think  _you_  were going to dinner with him. And it's not a date it's  _not_. He's just trying to cheer me up after everything with Jonah."

"He said that did he?" She asked softly, a gentle, knowing look in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his waist, hooking her chin over his shoulder and meeting Blaine's gaze in the full length mirror.

"Well - no but-"

"Then who's to say it's not a date?"

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

"You look" Kurt breathed "unbelievable." Blaine laughed nervously, looking down briefly at his silver pants and black button down.

"Thanks." He replied breathlessly "you're not too bad yourself." Kurt smiled toothily and took his arm.

 

Kurt's wealth had been considerably underestimated. Admittedly Blaine had never read anything he'd written, which had been a mistake. Not only was Kurt talented, he was a popular author, not quite famous, but popular. With popularity came a certain amount of wealth, he wasn't rich by any means but by the look of the restaurant they had reservations at he was reasonably well off. Blaine, on the other hand was anything but. He'd saved up for weeks, just to make sure he could even go and once they'd been seated there was little he could do but pray that the menu offered something he'd be able to afford.

 

Kurt watched warily as Blaine took a full twenty minutes deciding what to order, squinting down at the menu and worrying his bottom lip. It was simultaneously adorable and heartbreaking to watch him so studiously agonise over a simple meal out. "Blaine" he called softly, tapping the menu Blaine had been holding close to his face "did you forget to put contacts in?" A flush bloomed high on Blaine's cheeks as he finally put down his menu.

"I err lost them and I didn't want to wear my glasses they're so chunky and-"

"Sexy? Blaine, really? You hate them so much you thought you'd get through tonight with partially impaired vision?"

"That and maybe a little dish washing" Blaine's mumble did not go unheard.

"Oh sweetheart did you honestly think you'd be paying tonight?" Blaine nodded sheepishly "No way silly, I asked you out, tonight's on me."

"It's really no trouble" he protested "you've been so generous already it's the least I can do."

"And the most you can do" Kurt continued gleefully, pausing to relay their orders to the waiter "is let me do this and love me for it in the long run." After a lot of consideration Blaine agreed "I think I can do that."

 

The food Kurt had ordered was delicious but they barely paid any heed to the meals in front of them. Blaine was fascinated by the light blush that trailed from Kurt's cheeks to the tips of his ears and Kurt was mesmerised by Blaine's wide eyes, alight with joy and laughter. It was with shy smiles, coy glances and Kurt's foot brushing his ankle that Blaine had it confirmed. Yep it was definitely a date.

 

Blaine laughed brightly, loudly, embarrassingly so in fact and he tried to stifle it behind his hand. Kurt tilted his head and stared quizzically, eyes curious and fond "what are you laughing at?"

"N-nothing," Blaine stammered "I'm just happy."

"Well good. I'm glad Blaine because after what happened with Jonah I-"

"Kurt-" Blaine interrupted warningly.

"No Blaine I really need to say this."

 

Blaine sat back, pushing his plate away from him and interlacing his fingers on the table top. Kurt could see that a little of the light that had been so present in his eyes earlier had been extinguished but not entirely. Blaine was allowing him to say his piece, to listen even if it wasn't something he particularly wanted to hear. "I know that you gave Jonah all the money you had for rent and I don't know what kinda shit he's in but one thing I do know is that you did it because you care. Hell even though he's been nothing but an ass you still care, so much. I asked you out tonight because I've seen that. You're kind and passionate and smart. I've seen you struggle this past week going from class, to work and back again, barely sleeping or eating in between. I really like you Blaine, and I wanted to let you know that you don't have to do this on your own and if you're ever in any trouble I'm more than willing to-"

 

"That really isn't necessary." Blaine said, smile falling from his lips.

"Blaine- please"

"No I- you're very sweet Kurt and I appreciate your offer and support but I don't need your charity or your pity."

"It's not-" Kurt protested imploringly placing a hand over Blaine's that was picking at the table cloth.

"But it is though Kurt. I- um I really like you too Kurt but I came to New York to make a life for  _myself_ , to be free and to make art and be happy. I won't feel like I'm doing any of that if I'm relying on you constantly." Kurt looked sheepish, his blue eyes dark with worry and concern.

 

"I won't be the protagonist of one of your stories Kurt. I'm not the poor, lonely, down-on-his-luck boy that features in every cliché romance novel, the Cinderfella to be whisked off his feet by the talented, beautiful and experienced Prince Charming. I know you mean well but I have to do this myself." Blaine took a deep breath and looked away, waiting anxiously for Kurt to respond.

 

Kurt's hand twitched on top of Blaine's, slotting their fingers together with a sigh before tilting his head to meet Blaine's gaze. It made sense, what Blaine had said, it really did and Kurt felt infinitely guilty. He had tried to appear sincere, he was just trying to help after all but in hindsight his insistence had been overbearing. Blaine had been distant and cautious lately, working himself into the ground just to get by and doing nothing of a night time but working on school projects, writing papers, painting with pure magic onto canvases and materials he could barely afford. He understood completely though why he felt so strongly about having so little help.

 

Living with Kurt made him self-conscious, he wasn't a child, he didn't need to be dependent on anyone let alone Kurt. Half of Blaine realised that his refusal may have just been his pride, his adamancy to show Kurt that he can cope and that he has everything under control. Of course the other half believed he was completely justified, thinking that Kurt must think he's incapable of taking care of things himself.

 

"I'm sorry," Kurt said vehemently "you're right, you aren't a child, you're nineteen and doing perfectly fine, thriving almost. Just- if something ever gets to be too much I'm here Blaine, I get that you want to do this by yourself but at the very least I want to be a friend to you." Kurt snapped his mouth shut, realising belatedly the implications of what he had let slip. Blaine's smile, however, was always worth it. "At the very least huh?" He replied cheekily, smiling so wide that his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched up.

"At the very least"

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

After desert and a few too many glasses of wine they unlocked the door to their apartment, giggling their way into the living room with arms around waists and faces too close. Kurt huffed out a breath, eyes still sparkling with mirth and face flushed from a little too much alcohol. "You know," he began turning Blaine to face him and fiddling with his bowtie "you're beautiful B." Blaine's breathing hitched, a reply caught in his throat as Kurt's eyes drifted down to his lips.

"Uh B h-huh?" He stuttered as Kurt undid the knot at his throat, tugging on the loose ends causing him to stumble closer. Kurt didn't reply just wrapped his arms around his neck.

 

City lights streamed through the windows and the sounds of car horns and merry New Yorkers blared through the thin walls. Time seemed to slow as they began to sway, tipsy movement that crudely imitated dancing to nothing but the music of the city below, just beyond the cracked brick and fogged up window panes. "Did Jonah ever tell you that?" Kurt whispered, eyes slightly glassy but boring into Blaine's own "did he tell you that you're beautiful Blaine because you so are" Pressure began to build behind Blaine's eyes, the threat of tears evident in his dark tea stained eyes. He found himself compelled to look away, to step out of Kurt's hold. He couldn't though. He was warm and all encompassing and he thought he was  _beautiful_. Blaine was beautiful.

 

Jonah had told him the same but it felt different. The first time he'd heard it was spread out on a tiny dorm bed, shivering in anticipation and nervousness as he laughed breathlessly, blush colouring his cheeks as he buried his face in his arm. He remembered it fondly but he no longer flinched at the memory of Jonah's face, his voice or his body. He remembered the feeling, the warmth that had spread from his heart and rushed through his veins. There was always doubt then. Beautiful? Blaine? No he couldn't possibly be. With Kurt, even through the haze created by too much rose, he could see Kurt believed it, could see himself believing it, eventually.

 

The sights and sounds of the outside world began to fade into white noise, the score and soundtrack to the epic finale found only in storybooks. Kurt tilted Blaine's head up with his thumb and fore finger, eyes sweeping his face with something akin to a look of awe. He leaned down as Blaine's neck craned up, lips meeting softly somewhere in the middle, their eyes closing involuntarily. Softly, slowly they kissed chaste and sweet.

Kurt pulled back gently, thumbs brushing Blaine's hot cheek bones as his eyes fluttered open, focusing on nothing but Kurt's eyes and small contented smile. "Beautiful" he whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

"Blaine, you are soooo drunk" Kurt snorted from his place on the couch as Blaine swayed half provocatively and half clumsily to the music trickling from the tinny speakers of his old record player. "Not  _drunk_  drunk" he replied, words slurring together only slightly "if I was  _drunk_  drunk, I would be less clothed and seeing two of you." He sauntered carefully forward, trying to be suave and seductive and almost failing as he tripped lightly. "But less clothed can be arranged." He mumbled straddling Kurt on the couch and tugging a rough hand through his hair.

 

Kurt just stared at him, mouth agape and eyes guarded. Blaine shifted uncomfortably hand dropping to rest on Kurt's shoulder as he averted his gaze. The shuffling seemed to cause something in Kurt to break. He lunged forward, just fast enough to catch Blaine's startled gasp as Kurt's hands dragged him forward by the hips, fitting them together flushed and aching. "Sorry," Kurt whispered against his lips "I was expecting you to be a little more hesitant, more..."

"Innocent." Blaine laughed kissing Kurt deep and hard and filthy "No such luck sweetheart someone ‘deflowered' this rose a long time ago." He rolled his hips tortuously, as if to prove his point, eyes fluttering closed and a sweet moan falling from his lips.

 

He felt Kurt shudder and twitch beneath him and couldn't restrain the salacious smile that stretched across his face. "But," he continued teasingly "we could pretend, just for tonight, that I'm sweet seventeen year old virgin, Blaine Anderson." The rolling of his hips stopped abruptly as he looked up at Kurt from under his lashes, golden honey eyes gazing up at him, wide, eager and innocent. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth and looked suitably nervous and excited, slipping so beautifully into the role of virginal schoolboy.

 

Trying to clear his head quickly Kurt clung tightly to Blaine's hips, eyes flitting restlessly across his tousled hair, blushing cheeks and spit slick lips. He couldn't deny he wanted what Blaine was suggesting, couldn't resist how pliant he would be like that, how willing and eager to please, unrestrained and curious. He knew that Blaine new what he was doing, had been all too aware of how Blaine knew his body and knew how to use it. There was something about Blaine like that though, trusting and open and vulnerable that even though it was an act Kurt just couldn't shake the images from his mind. Beautiful, sinful Blaine on his knees and batting his lashes as he took him, surprised whines and whimpers tumbling from his throat without a moment's thought.

 

It felt wrong in a way, to give in to lust still a little bit drunk and only after the first date. It felt wrong because in a way, he was fetishizing their age gap; something he had decided didn't and would never matter. It felt wrong to force the image of an unassuming naïve youth onto someone as strong and lasciviously powerful as Blaine. Blaine took to it willingly though, no longer swaying but picking somewhat nervously at the buttons of Kurt's shirt, tongue coming out sporadically to lick his lips. It was then that Kurt knew he wanted it, just as much as Kurt had from the very beginning.

 

He place his hand over Blaine's to stop his fiddling fingers and Blaine finally looked up at him, eyes clear. "Please" he begged once, just a hoarse, cracked whisper that sent Kurt careening over the edge of self-restraint.

 

They kissed, hard and sloppy, panting into each other's mouths as Blaine's hands fumbled with the buttons of Kurt's shirt and scrambled over every new expanse of skin. Kurt whined as Blaine pulled back, hazel eyes fluttering open slowly, blown wide with arousal and so eager. Without breaking eye contact he stood and slid to his knees, hands high on Kurt's thighs and a small nervous smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

 

He took it slow, as if it really was Blaine's first time sucking cock but they both knew it wasn't. Blaine's drug addled confession of having ‘experience' and his luscious mouth, that kissing him proved to Kurt that he knew how to use, served as testament to his pseudo-innocence. Every now and then his mask would slip, his eyes closing as Kurt moved deeper. The glint in his wide, honey eyes as his eyes opened when Kurt tightened his grip on his hair was unmistakable yet brief. The moment Kurt looked down to where he was guiding Blaine, twisting and pulling on his curls to get deeper, to get Blaine to work his tongue whenever he could in all the right places, Blaine just continued to blink up at him.

 

He played his part well, still, on his knees and taking more than perhaps a first timer could handle. His eyes fluttered closed from time to time, fanning eyelashes brushing across his beautifully flushed cheeks. He whined and moaned eagerly, wantonly, as his hands gripped at the base and Kurt's thigh. Blaine was the picture of sin and sweetness all amalgamated in one fearlessly beautiful nineteen year old artist. Deliciously messy and trembling from holding himself back as he worked to please and tease simultaneously. Kurt came all to soon with a guttural groan as he watched Blaine's eyes slip closed a final time, swallowing, working him through it and tasting him on his tongue.

 

Kurt guided him off his cock with a loose hand in his hair, petting idly through the curls as Blaine rested his head on his thigh. His eyes remained closed as he panted for breath, swollen red lips parted and slick with a mixture of saliva and come. He looked so sweet, so open, so  _young_  as he curled up against him, shivering and licking his lips sporadically as if he were trying to savour the taste. It struck Kurt that underneath all of Blaine's bravado there was a little truth in the façade he took to so easily.

 

"Baby," Kurt started his voice rough and deep in a way that made the heat deep in Blaine's stomach coil hotly "did you?" Blaine finally opened his eyes but shook his head, making no move to lift it or even open his mouth to speak, he just blinked up at Kurt, fingertips drawing lazy, nervous patterns across his skin. Kurt frowned down at him concerned. "What's wrong?" he asked gently, lifting his chin with shaking fingers. They were still playing, or so it seemed. "I- um," Blaine coughed, voice gravelly, deep and raw sounding "I mean- was it okay? Did I-"

"Did you-? God baby it was so okay, so so okay. You were amazing." Blaine's smile in return was beatific, his body seeming to vibrate with the praise as he began to shift uncomfortably on his knees.

 

"Now let me take care of you beautiful." Blaine opened his mouth to protest but Kurt cut him off with a searing kiss, distracting him with his mouth and deft fingers as they unbuttoned and slipped the shirt from his shoulders. Blaine began to reach out, intending to hold him close but Kurt pushed them back, moving to situate himself close behind him on his knees. "Shh let me." He whispered, kissing the shell of his ear, the soft spot underneath his jaw, sucking hard at the junction of his shoulder, the hollow of his throat. He muttered praise and affection all the while. Praising flawless golden skin, toned muscle and coarse dark hair, his elegance, his grace as Blaine's body undulated beneath his touch. He flicked the button of his pants open, listening raptly to Blaine's hitching breath as he slid the zipper down and slipped a hand inside. Kurt's hand cupped him, hard and aching through damp, burgundy boxer briefs and Blaine bucked into the touch, twisting a hand into Kurt's hair and whining into his neck.

 

Blaine's mewls and whimpers played like a symphony, his body the orchestra as he writhed and responded to Kurt's every touch. His muscles tensed and straining in desperation, eyes shut tight, and breath leaving parted cherry lips in between every moan and stuttered groan. Kurt decided to be merciful. He couldn't take another second of not watching the boy in his arms fall apart.

 

With pants and underwear down to his thighs, Kurt looked down at him, enraptured by the twist and roll of Blaine's body. He stroked him tight and fast, precum dripping down the shaft. Blaine fell apart rapidly, hips twitching up into Kurt's fist, head thrown back and buried in his neck to muffle his little moans and whimpers. Kurt had thought Blaine would be loud. He could feel himself struggling to get hard again just from the sound alone, with the feel of Blaine's cock, slick, hot and heavy in his hand it seemed inevitable. A flick of the wrist just bellow the head of Blaine's cock sent him pulsing and crying out, muscles jumping and body curling up tight in Kurt's grasp as come coated Kurt's fist, and a little made it onto Blaine's abdomen and pants.

 

He slumped in Kurt's arms, shivering and breathing erratically as he came down. A strange feeling overcame him as he held Blaine, sated and happy in his arms. There was no guilt, no bitterness, no shame, only hope. Hope that a young and lonely boy could find faith in love again and that a lost boy could be the one to give it to him.

 

"I need to write." Kurt muttered, holding Blaine tightly and craning his head to kiss him lightly on the lips. Blaine blinked at him sleepily, confused "what right now?"

"What can I say orgasms are inspirational." He shot back. Blaine snorted but his expression changed quickly, his eyes solemn, back to looking wise beyond his years. "Can't the words wait?" he asked, curling up on his side to face him and beckoning Kurt to the space beside him "For now?" Kurt settled on his back, slotting a naked Blaine tight against him and burying his nose in the unruly curls he had come to love so much. "The words can wait," he said, dropping a kiss to Blaine's lips "for now."

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Sunlight was much scarcer in Kurt's room. The light was dim, as if dawn was only just breaking but the clock on Kurt's bedside table told him it was already past ten. Blaine woke slowly, slipping more serenely from sleep than he perhaps had ever done. It didn't occur to him at first where he was, in bed with Kurt wrapped around him. The mornings had always been his favourite, quiet and safe. He snuggled carefully back into Kurt's hold, grinning as he snuffled in his sleep and nosed at the back of his neck.

 

He was no virgin but just the thought of the night prior made him blush, not because he had been so brazen, so unafraid of stripping himself bare for Kurt, but because he had loved every second of it. The praise and whispered sweet nothings had sent shivers down his spine, tingling through his bones and across his skin. Kurt's gentleness and reverence was so different to anything Blaine had experienced before. He wanted nothing more but to beg and moan for Kurt again and again until his voice was gone and there was nothing left to give.

 

Blaine turned over slowly and met sleepy pale blue eyes and a lazy smile. A soft sigh escaped him as agile fingers stroked across his sleep warmed cheeks and threaded through his bed mussed hair. "You were thinking too loud." Kurt remarked. His eyes drifted across Blaine's features carefully, lingering for long moments on the curve of his jaw, the fullness of his lips and the sparkle in his warm, whiskey gold eyes. "What were you thinking about?"

"Just- last night." Blaine muttered closing his eyes as his cheeks flushed red hot.

"My my my," he replied with a teasing smirk "You're blushing. God you were unbelievable last night Blaine."

 

Blaine shifted closer to bury his face in Kurt's shoulder. "I'm embarrassed" he mumbled and Kurt laughed, loud and bright and echoing through the still apartment.

"Don't be Blaine. You were- Christ Blaine just the way you looked, sounded,  _felt_ , that's nothing to be embarrassed about. Me on the other hand, I feel like such a dirty old man."

"You're not old" came Blaine's reply, muffled by Kurt's warm, sweet smelling skin.

"Oh but still dirty?" Kurt grinned, as Blaine rolled them over, settling himself over Kurt's naked hips "Positively filthy." Fingertips followed the contours of his ribs and abdomen before grasping his half hard cock. Kurt threw his head back with a stuttering groan just as his phone started to ring.

 

"Cockblock" Blaine whined and Kurt let out a strangled laugh as he checked his phone to see if he could just let it go to voice mail. Sadly, he had no such luck, Mathew was calling, his agent. Seeing the look of apprehension on Kurt's face Blaine untangled himself from the sheets and slipped on his shirt. The look he received was desperately pleading but Blaine new better than to interfere. "Take care of business babe" he said, leaning down to kiss Kurt, feather light and quick "and I'll take care of you later." He winked, smiling devilishly, eyes warm and crinkling at the corners. He turned and walked from the room, hips swaying sinfully, clad in a shirt that barely even covered his ass.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Mathew was a shrewd, calculating man who happened to be a pretty abhorrent person but was a saint to know if you were like Kurt and needed to get a book published every now and again. Frankly speaking, he was a bore, brash and pompous but only because he had ‘friends in high places', and ‘contacts' and his ‘people in the know'. Frankly speaking Kurt thought he was an asshole, but one who's shit he had to put up with if he wanted to make it anywhere in the literary world. He also hated him just that little bit more because he'd interrupted a potential orgasm no matter how spectacularly Blaine had made up for it once Kurt had found him an hour later sketching clad in only a pair of boxer briefs and  _that_  shirt. He hated him even more because Blaine, warm and happy and mischievous in his bed was his favourite Blaine out of the many he'd come to know.

 

Kurt despised Mathew because he'd organised a Literary Gala, which for some reason, as the small-time publishing house's best selling author, Kurt had to attend. He had no idea that such a thing as a ‘Literary Gala' even existed but it sounded as pretentious and unnecessary as Kurt assumed it would turn out to be. What's more is that he was expected to bring a date, ‘a respectable, handsome date explicitly to reflect Kurt as both an individual and as a writer' as Mathew had put it. The first person that sprang to mind was Blaine, but he knew that Mathew would disapprove. If it wasn't for the fact the Blaine was quite a bit younger than Kurt himself it would be the fact that he was an artist or that he hardly had a high flying 'respectable job working in a small bookstore. Mathew and his people ‘in the know' would find every possible way to belittle and degrade Blaine in a matter or seconds in their bizarre, ritualistic quest to insult with better hyperbole, verboseness and grammatical accuracy than anyone else attending.

 

The upside was, however, that Kurt far surpassed them in terms of cutting remarks and Blaine certainly had an aptitude for wit that could cunningly charm and chagrin simultaneously. He collapsed onto Blaine's bed, yet still managed not to jostle Blaine, drawing idly from his position sprawled on his front. "Blaine" he drawled.

"Mmm" Blaine hummed distractedly.

"Will you accompany me to this literary gala thing tonight?"

"You want me to go with you to a Literary Gala? Isn't that kinda important, like a literary exhibition of sorts?"

"Well no. I mean yes. No I mean it's not that important"

"And you want to take your boy toy?

"You are not my  _boy toy_!" Kurt exclaimed indignantly.

"Kurt, of course I'll go with you, as long as it won't cause any trouble for you, having a nineteen year old art student as your arm candy for the evening."

"It won't. I promise."

"Good then sneak me some Champagne while we're there and you've got yourself a deal Mister."


	5. Chapter 5

"My my my Mister Anderson, don't you scrub up well?" Kurt said breathlessly as he sauntered into Blaine's room. Blaine was standing in front of his full length mirror, staring at himself in the classic black tuxedo Kurt had presented him with and fiddling with the silk of his bowtie, trying to tie it for the forth time. "I tried," he replied dejectedly "Tonight of all nights I can't tie my tie and my hair is a mess as usual. I'm going to look terrible compared to everyone there, compared to  _you_." Blaine raked his eyes across Kurt's form taking in the slim cut of his grey slacks and the cinching waist of his teal suit jacket, the perfect coif of his hair and the neatness of the knot at his throat.

 

An indignant huff escaped him as his head thumped against the glass. Kurt chuckled at Blaine's petulant behaviour, smile broad as he turned him around to face him. "You look breathtakingly handsome Blaine." He said sincerely, taking his hands "I'll help you with your tie and your hair and as for the others at the gala, none of them could ever compare to you tonight." He tugged Blaine into the bathroom, and Blaine hopped up onto the counter without the elegance his fine suit would suggest he possessed.

 

Blaine tipped his head back obediently, baring his throat as Kurt tied his bowtie with apparent expertise. Peering down at him with crossed eyes he watched Kurt, concentrating adorably hard, with the slightest sliver of pink tongue poking out between his lips. He let out a small chuckle as Kurt took a step back and reached for the product. "You look about five years old when you concentrate" he said fondly and Kurt glared at him playfully

"And you look about five years old whenever." Despite valiantly trying to look affronted Blaine laughed heartily, throwing his head back as Kurt came toward him with hands doused in hair mousse. "Yes very funny Borat," Kurt said grinning "now stay still."

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

"Kurt!" Mathew, Kurt's agent, whispered harshly as Kurt was subtly trying to walk past him to obtain another glass of Champagne. Rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth Kurt made his way toward the stout man with a somewhat pleasant smile fixed firmly in place. "Mathew, nice to see you" he tried jovially, but his pleasantries were not returned.

"Cut the crap Hummel," Mathew said sharply "can you please explain to me why you bought some fucking kid to the literary event of the year?" His disgusted tone made Kurt's blood simmer but arguing with the guy that called the shots was never a good idea. "You asked me to bring a date so I did."

"You're not  _actually_  dating the kid are you?" He asked, incredulous.

"Well um no well- sort of- I don't know it just-" Mathew cut him off.

"You know what; I don't want to know if you're fucking him just tell me where you found him, he looks like he's still in school."

 

"He's my roommate and he's an art student at NYU." Kurt gushed proudly in the face of Mathew's scornful scrutiny.

"That's all we need," he muttered in reply, rolling his eyes obnoxiously "some talentless doe eyed ‘bohemian' following you around like a lost lamb." Kurt clutched his Champagne flute so tightly he was surprised it didn't shatter in his palm. He turned on Mathew, agent and industry big shot be damned.

 

"No, you know what  _I_  don't need?" He asked eyes blazing as he towered over the portly man "I don't need some fake, narcissistic snob telling me what to do with my personal life as well as my career, and if you're really such a literary connoisseur then I'm sure you'll have no problem perfecting your résumé."

"Y-you can't be serious!" Mathew all but screeched back "All this for a fuck toy!" Kurt grabbed him by the lapels of his god awful aubergine double breasted suit jacket. "If I so much as hear another utterance of your vile you cantankerous asshole I swear I'll have you blacklisted from every publishing agency, news outlet, writer and journalist across the whole of North America."

"You can't- wouldn't-"

"You fucking try me Hawkes!" Kurt pushed him roughly back into the stone pillar before stalking off. He swapped his empty glass for a full one, flashing a tight smile at the startled looking waiter and waded his way though various writers and critics that vied for his attention.

 

He was caught suddenly by an old college friend who he tolerated enough to decide that he probably should talk to  _someone_  that night. As he chatted noncommittally his eyes drifted across the crowd until they fell on Blaine, standing alone on the outskirts of the party, inspecting the hall's vast array of sculptures and paintings. He smiled around his next sentence, excusing himself to join him, still fiddling with his bowtie and daintily clutching the same Champagne flute he'd been given once he'd arrived in slightly shaking hands.

 

It was mediocre at best, the painting Blaine found himself appraising as Kurt came up beside him, taking his hand away from his tie and holding it in his own. He directed a twitchy smile up at him, nerves and a giddy excitement bubbling inside him. "You are positively shaking are you okay?" Kurt frowned, concerned, still feeling the remnants of the fury Mathew's words had incurred within him rumble like distant drums. "I'm fine" he replied brightly, squeezing Kurt's hand in reassurance "just a little anxious with all these eyes on me, it's like I can barely move without someone following or hearing someone whisper behind my back."

 

"We can leave you know," Kurt nonchalantly suggested "I hate half the people here anyway." Blaine chuckled, smiling slightly.

"I doubt your agent would be very fond of me whisking you away."

"He's not my agent," Kurt said, terse and clipped "at least, not anymore." Blaine raised an eyebrow as if to ask what had happened but he knew better than to bring it up. Judging by the sharp set of his jaw, the issue was best left alone. "Anyway, I'm sure no one would miss us."

 

They made their way along the wall, staring distractedly at the pieces of art that lined them. The collection was unimpressive but enough to distract them from all that was left unsaid, unasked. "Everyone would miss you here"  _especially me_  "you're the guest of honour aren't you?"

"How did you-" stuttered Kurt.

"I may be young Kurt but I'm not  _stupid_. It's not hard to eavesdrop at events like this, I speak from experience." Blaine cut him off quietly, his demeanour eerily calm. He took a deep breath, staring forward at the simply framed watercolour ahead of him "I know about Chicago." Kurt opened his mouth to speak but he found it dry, the lump in his throat burning and unmovable. His first instinct was to offer reassurances, ease the look of steely resolve shadowing Blaine's sweet face. He could offer none however; anything more would be a lie, a hasty placation that wouldn't fool anyone, least of all Blaine. Blaine who had been lied to one too many times, loved so deeply, trusted too easily.

 

"Blaine I-" but Blaine silenced him with a look, eyes resolute but beginning to betray him.

"It's okay." He whispered, smiling gently and tangling their fingers together he let out a breathy laugh as he looked down at them before closing his eyes. He took a breath in and then out slowly and Kurt knew that the wounds he'd so desperately tried to help heal had begun to tear at the seams, stitches fraying slowly. "Blaine..." He choked out willing time to rewind, stop or at the very least slow for him, give him time to figure it out or spend just one more minute with him, blissfully happy for once in a lost boy's life.

 

"Just dance with me." He said simply, gently pulling him onto the dance floor and wrapping himself around him. Kurt could feel the tremors running through Blaine's body, buried under extravagance that stifled him and made him shrink. Blaine's face was buried in his neck where Kurt couldn't see. He shut his eyes, clutching Blaine tight as the guilt and frustration sunk deep in his chest, burrowing its way through his ribcage like a parasite, straight to the heart.

 

They danced until the night came to an end, wrapped up in each other as the quartet played pieces that they neither knew nor paid any heed to. Dozens of people started to approach them but Kurt's tempest eyes kept them at bay, scurrying back to their canapés and caviar. On and on they danced until Blaine became heavy in his arms and the only people who remained were themselves and the wait staff. They shuffled out of the venue discarding Blaine's half empty Champagne flute on their way out. They kissed sweetly, arms slung around waists as they made their way to the cab, bundling in and slumping against the leather seats. Unsurprisingly, Blaine fell asleep in a matter of minutes, cheek resting on Kurt's shoulder, his soft breaths warming his skin. Never before had Kurt gazed at the second star to the right and wished so hard for Neverland.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Blaine stood quietly at the fire escape, bundled up against the night air in pyjama pants and a sweater that swamped his form but he was warm and content in that moment. He had expected a sense of panic to overwhelm him but it seemed that years of exposure had desensitised him to such disappointments as the unexpected departure of a lover, if that was indeed what they were, lovers. He felt strangely calm as he watched over the city that never sleeps, breeze tousling his curls into further disarray, the bustle of city life a stark contrast to the stillness he felt inside. Supposedly it was the calm before the storm, or the eye of the hurricane where he could not sense of feel beyond the paralysis that had seized his heart and mind.

 

_It was on the roof of a house, a house far from New York that Blaine lay under the gaze of stars that had long since died, his brother at his side. They had escaped from the annual Anderson family reunion and taken refuge on the roof top, frostbitten air burning their lungs as if in punishment for their avoidance of the equally cold Anderson clan._

_"What is love?" Blaine had blurted and Cooper had given him that look, the one that somehow managed to convey affection and condescension in a simple arch of an eyebrow and jut of his chin. "It's a gift," he said plainly, his gaze steady with the certainty his twenty one years of wisdom and maturity had afforded him "it's euphoria and it's paralysis and..."_

_"And?" Blaine had urged, wide eyed and awed and so young._

_"You will always be happily terrified to give and receive it."_

Blaine didn't flinch as he heard the metallic sounds of Kurt making his way onto the fire escape. He looked up as Kurt once again wrapped himself around him. He looked up at the stars a fond but bitter smile gracing his lips and thought  _oh how painfully right you were_.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

As much as Blaine adored the mornings, nothing could compare to talking into the night and falling asleep, bodies entwined, with someone you cared about. They chose Blaine's bed that night, it was smaller, an excuse to be closer, and Blaine felt much more sane in his own bed, safe in the knowledge he would not get lost in dreams and stray from what was real. Kurt lay curled tightly around him, strong arms around his waist and head resting on his chest. His fingertips grazed along Blaine's ribs, tracing the tattoo that adorned the skin there.

 

"Is there a meaning behind this particular work of art?" Kurt whispered as he brushed back and forth reverently over the ink stained skin. The design was simple, beautiful black feathers falling from his chest across his ribs to gather in a pile at his right hip. The feathers were far more intricate than Kurt would've assumed possible to be etched into skin. In each feather hid a word, just noticeable enough to serve as a reminder, words such as fight, create, live, courage, hope and love. "They're all things I want to do and possess" Blaine said quietly, smiling down at Kurt's gentle hands "They were added at different points in my life, things I needed after failures and things I had gained after triumphs."

 

Kurt stayed silent contemplating so Blaine continued. "Of course you don't have to have some deep story behind a tattoo. What would you get if you were to get inked?" Kurt deliberated for a moment, placing a kiss over the feather that read ‘hope'. "I would get a compass and then the words ‘second star to the right and straight on till morning'."

"Peter Pan? Any particular reason?" Blaine asked, fingers playing with Kurt's slightly damp hair.

"It was my favourite bedtime story when I was young." Kurt explained "My mother used to read it to me. When she died, when I was eight, I used to wish that I had been a lost boy and grown up without a mother instead of having to lose one. I wanted to be Peter, even though he could be cruel and heartless. I wanted to be a boy forever and never have to care about loss or loneliness again."

 

"I'm so sorry Kurt." Blaine whispered, tears burning behind his eyes as he thought of Kurt, scared, young and lonely.

"It's okay. As I grew up I learnt that losing her was so much better than never having heard her laugh or seen her smile, or helped her bake on Saturday's. If I had never known her, then I'd truly be lost." Kurt spoke through the lump in his throat and simply shuffled closer, fingertips still tracing Blaine's right side.

"I think you should get it," Blaine said adamantly "for your mom and for yourself. I'll design it for you if you like."

"You'd do that for me?" Kurt leaned up on his elbows and looked down on Blaine.

"Of course, I'll even go with you to get it. How's your pain threshold?"

"Don't you worry Anderson, I'm tougher than I look." Kurt grinned, before settling back on Blaine's chest.

"I'm just asking because I  _seriously_  underestimated how much getting a tattoo across my ribs was gonna hurt. I don't think I stopped swearing once and it took a long time to finish."

"I don't mind the pain," Kurt mumbled against his skin, eyelids beginning to droop slightly "it'll be worth it in the end."

"It will." Blaine muttered drifting off to sleep quickly.

 

_"Dreams do come true, if only we wish hard enough. You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it."_


	6. Chapter 6

They didn't talk about it.

 

Blaine didn't mention it as he slowly woke to a devilish smile and soft fingertips tracing his tattoo. They didn't talk about it and everything continued on as normal, as if it had never happened, as if Blaine didn't know Kurt was leaving and possibly never coming back. They made breakfast together, showered, got dressed and kissed goodbye as Blaine left for his shift at the bookshop. It wasn't their routine per say but it was more domestic than was comfortable, especially with the knowledge that it would all shatter in such a short space of time.

 

He knew that it would've been better, to put an end to whatever it was they were immediately, better but not any easier than just waiting for the blade to drop. He was adamant though that he wouldn't be angry or sad until he was gone, until the happiest few months of his life had passed like leaves drifting in an autumn breeze.

 

He should've known that Kurt would notice that something was wrong. Kurt, as inconveniently perceptive as ever, stopped by the bookstore just after Blaine's lunch break. He swept into the shop, bell jingling merrily to announce his arrival, startling Blaine where he was doodling quietly at the front desk. "Hi there!" Kurt called cheerily "I wonder if you can help me, I'm looking for a handsome young man about yay high with gorgeous curly hair and a fantastic ass?" Blaine couldn't help but grin, rushing around the desk and planting a quick kiss on Kurt's pouting lips. "Why I think we found what you were looking for sir." He said eyes shining as he felt Kurt's arms wrap around his waist.

"Thank God! I've been looking for you forever!"

 

"Blainey! Blainey!" A raspy voice called "Who's that young man I see you canoodling with there?" An old woman of around eighty shuffled into the room, bright purple feather shawl swinging as she approached. "Well?" She said putting a hand on Blaine's shoulder "Introduce us darling I didn't raise you to forget your manners." He didn't have the heart to point out that she didn't in fact raise him at all because in some ways he wished that she had. The old woman had quickly become his closest confidante after his first week in New York. Blaine, the definition of starving artist, had stumbled upon her bookshop enquiring about work and she hired him almost immediately, offering to pay him more than the job was worth. He was grateful, but she insisted that he give her nothing but to live happy and free.

 

"Of course" he replied with a smile "Margret Atkinson meet Kurt Hummel. Kurt Hummel, Margret Atkinson."

"It's a pleasure to meet you ma'am." Kurt smiled shaking her hand and looking nervous as Margret's shrewd green eyes stared him down.

"Mister Kurt Hummel, I'm familiar with your work though I hope you don't think your success will earn you any special treatment around here." She smiled sweetly, her kindly face slightly unsettling as she gripped his hand tight. Blaine let out a strange strangled choking sound, face flushed red and a hand covering half his face.

"Maggie..." he whined but she ignored him.

"Now you treat him right you hear me?" She said softly.

"We're not-" Blaine panicked.

"I don't care what you think you two are Blaine I know love when I see it." Her voice was sharp and it sent Blaine reeling. No, no, no he didn't believe it, wouldn't believe it. He turned on his heel and walked back to the shelves. "Do you hear me?" Maggie repeated her eyes soft and sad. "He's a wonderful, charming old soul. He knows more than he will tell you, feels more than he will show you unless you prove to him that he is more to you, that he's special and dear to you. If you don't, then shame on you Mister Hummel, for breaking a beautiful boy's heart."

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Kurt and Maggie sat for a while, drinking tea and talking. She told him about her husband James, who had passed away a few springs previously, and how Blaine had originally arrived a few months after he had been diagnosed with cancer, bringing light and laughter to their little shop again. She told tales of how diligent Blaine always was, in his work, in his studies. Rushing in just on time, juggling sketchbooks and notebooks with flushed cheeks and hair askew. She recalled one day in June, the store had been quiet and Blaine and Maggie had spent the day rummaging through old records, both crooning along to whatever was playing. She often said that he was born for a different time, that there were few ‘old birds like her' who knew how to appreciate him, mind and soul.

 

She was fond of him as if he were the son she never had. She'd often watch him, when she had little else to do, too old to hop up and join him as he danced between the bookshelves. She watched as he sketched and sang as he worked. She watched him grow in the short time she had known him, mature and bloom. She watched as he fought for everything he had, she was there on his bad days, sending him home with a bag of camomile tea and a warm smile calling "Danny Kaye will be here same as always, Sinatra's in the box too". His face would light up a little, his sweet face just a little less troubled. He'd return the next day, not fine but better, and he always got there eventually anyway.

 

Kurt listened raptly as she regaled him with stories. He bristled when he heard about how things had changed once Jonah had sauntered into Blaine's life. He listened as Maggie described how happy Blaine was, at least for a little while, a few months later he more often than not started to turn up for work eyes red and puffy, his skin sallow and pale. Until the day he met Kurt. She told of a light in his eyes she hadn't seen before, the bounce in his step as he took Maggie's hand and bopped with her to the sounds streaming from the old record player. She knew it long before Kurt or even Blaine did. She also knew just from the way Kurt laughed and smiled about her boy, that he felt just the same. She would never tell them though; they'd figure it out soon enough.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Blaine returned after his shift and smiled brightly at Kurt as his eyes fell on him at his desk, furiously typing away with his glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose. "Hey how was your day?" Kurt said with a soft smile after pulling off his glasses and kissing him sweet and slow.

"It was eventful." Blaine replied, swaying on the spot from the strange mixture of affection and nervousness coursing through his veins. "It was nice of you to drop by this afternoon; Maggie just won't stop talking about you."

"She's a wonderful lady, Maggie," Kurt commented, helping Blaine out of his coat before sitting back down and taking Blaine with him "she's very wise, and she adores you, but really who doesn't?" Blaine's answering blush bloomed high on the apples of his cheeks and Kurt all but had to grab his hands to stop them from coming up to hide his face.

 

"Ah ah ah none of that mister I wanna see your handsome face when I make you blush." He teased using a hand on Blaine's chin to make him look at him.

"You're cruel."  _I love you._

"No I'm not." _I am, I'm sorry._

Blaine lowered his eyes, long dark lashes brushing at his still flushed cheeks in a way that made Kurt breathless. "You're an enigma Blaine Anderson." He whispered "So smart and sexy. Sometimes you're shy and others you're unashamed." Blaine bit back a whimper as Kurt began to place hot kisses trailing like ivy up his throat "You're stunning..." Kurt breathed against his neck sucking a bruise into the tender skin just bellow his jaw "and you take my breath away."

 

"Ku-urt" Blaine stuttered, his head tipping back and his hands gripping tight to Kurt's shoulders, fingers digging into the flexing, broad muscle "God now I know why you became a writer."

"Oh" Kurt gasped, tilting his head up to look at Blaine, pupils blown and chest heaving as he panted. "How many other boys have you lured into bed with you with your sultry words and whispered sweet nothings Mister Hummel?" Just like that they were playing _that_  game again. Blaine smiled coyly, biting his lip to keep from smirking as Kurt all but growled. Kurt's cock twitched painfully in his pants as Blaine continued to smile at him his rough hands stroking tentatively down his chest.

 

He looked so beautiful; straddling him on the rickety wooden chair, his hips rocking slowly into Kurt's as if he couldn't help himself. "Bed, now." He grunted trying to urge Blaine up but he refused to budge. Blaine thrust harder against him letting out a quiet moan. "No." He licked his lips.

"Fuck" Kurt hissed, stripping the buttons of Blaine's shirt and pulling it off his shoulders. He started on Blaine's pants but he slapped his hands away, slipping from his grasp and standing up to tug his belt from the belt loops. "Go," he whispered, never breaking eye contact "I'll be waiting for you."

 

Kurt jogged from the room, throwing off his jumper as he reached his bedroom. He almost ripped the draw out of his bedside table trying to get to the lube and condoms he kept there. Usually graceful and composed Kurt stumbled as he dashed back to the lounge, popping the button on his jeans and trying to jump out of them while moving. He crashed into the door frame, pants caught around his knees. He froze in the doorway, his jeans dropping to the ground as he stared over at his desk.

 

There was Blaine, sitting on top of Kurt's desk clad in only a pair of tight, black boxer briefs and staring expectantly over at him. His legs were spread, palms pressing into the wood between them as he looked up coyly from beneath his lashes. Time seemed to slow, the want between them seeming to settle into a steady thrum instead of sparking unexpectedly. Kurt walked to towards him slowly, stepping out of his jeans and not realising he was trembling with it until he realised Blaine was too. Blaine looked up at him as Kurt's hands pressed into the wood by his hips, eyes wide and lips begging to be kissed. He inhaled sharply as Kurt's lips grazed his, heart stuttering in his chest.

 

Kurt kissed him slow, sweeter and more careful than he ever had before. Absent was their usual bruising ferocity, everything seemed  _more_  somehow, like they were taking the time to remember every jerk and moan and whisper. Kurt urged Blaine to lie back, to spread out across the paper strewn wood of the desk. Pages upon pages fluttered to the floor whilst others lay crushed and crumpled underneath Blaine's body. Kurt slid to his knees, watching as Blaine tipped his head back as he sucked a bruise into the tender skin of his inner thigh. The evening sun made Blaine's skin shine, long shadows cast along beautiful lean muscle and a sinfully trim waist. Kurt knelt up to trace his hip bones with his tongue moaning low in his throat as Blaine's lips parted on a gasp, broad hands flying to tangle in his hair.

 

Kurt loved Blaine like that, cock hard against his abdomen and body stretched taut in pleasure and anticipation. Sucking another mark into his pelvis he marvelled at him, head thrown back, eyes tight shut and lips constantly parted, unable to control the sounds tumbling past them. His legs fell open further as Kurt's lubed finger circled him, teasing with the tip before pushing in. A beat and Blaine was writhing above him, trying to thrust down on the single digit as Kurt paused to catch his breath, squeezing at the base of his cock. "Fuck baby, so tight."

 

"Fuck Kurt just-" Blaine gritted out " _more_." Kurt added a second then a third, thrusting and twisting and curling his fingers upward until Blaine's back arched, bowing off the desk. A stuttering moan was ripped from his throat as a cascade of papers fluttered to the ground. Kurt didn't take his time like he'd wanted to, the salacious roll of Blaine's body proving too much and too tempting. His chest was heaving as he draped himself over him, sliding in until his hips were flush with Blaine's ass. He wrapped himself around him, hands roving over his waist as he fucked into him.

 

Blaine's sweat slick skin made the ink soaked paper cling to him, Kurt's words imprinted on his skin as he thrust hard and fast. Blaine pulled his hair, pulled him closer and crushed him to him, clumsy mouths kissing, hot and wet and filthy. He could do nothing but writhe and thrust back against him, trapped deliciously between Kurt's body and the unforgiving wood. Nails raked down Kurt's back and he hissed as bright spots of pleasure flooded him, the pain sparking quick and sharp. He nipped at Blaine's lips in retaliation, pulling on his bottom lip and pulling a whine from beneath his muffled groans.

 

Kurt sucked bruises down his neck, dark marks that left Blaine aching in his mouth's wake. "God you love this so much don't you sweetheart?" Kurt panted, burying himself deep and grinding his hips. "You just moan and whimper and  _beg_  so prettily don't you?" Kurt looked up, staring mouth agape at Blaine's face. He was wrecked, wild curls sweat drenched and tumbling into eyes rich and deep like whiskey and syrup. His lips were bruised, puffy, red and slick with how much they'd been sucked, bitten and kissed "don't you?" Kurt asked again, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, hand gripping at Blaine's ass. Blaine nodded, eyes fluttering shut again as Kurt began to thrust in earnest, chasing the heat coiling low and blazing in the base of his spine. "So gorgeous," he groaned "so good and so perfect," his lips hovered just over Blaine's as he growled "so fucking beautiful, love you like this Blaine, love you desperate and taking it fuck."

 

Blaine arched up into him, gripping his shoulders tight as the desk was jolted against the wall. Kurt snaked a hand between them, long, strong fingers curling around Blaine's aching cock and stroking. He was slick and flush and aching for release before a twist of Kurt's wrist and his erratic thrusts sent him falling over the edge. His body undulated, his head thrown back and mouth open in a scream as come covered Kurt's hand and both their stomachs. He clenched around Kurt and he came with a cry, teeth digging into Blaine's collar bone, making him limp and pliant beneath him as Kurt came inside him.

 

Kurt collapsed on his chest, chest heaving and vision blurry. He held tight to Blaine's trembling body as they attempted to come down. His hands stroked over the tattoo on Blaine's side in the way that always seemed to calm him, unable to really feel the burning slick, skin beneath his palms and fingertips. His legs and arms felt numb and if it wasn't for the desk and Blaine's body wrapped around his he would've probably sank to the floor. He shifted ever so slightly to look up, feeling his head move as Blaine's chest still expanded sharply with every inhalation. Blaine's eyes were shut, long, dark eyelashes fluttering against his red cheeks. Kurt could clearly see the marks decorating the side of his neck, bruises red and vibrant against otherwise flawless skin that shone gold in the fading sunlight. He felt a sharp pang resonate through his chest, like the beginnings of a wound and another promise left unspoken.

 

There was a deep contented sigh and Blaine's head turned his eyes fluttering open. He looked down and raised his hand sluggishly doing little more than fiddling with the strands of Kurt's hair that had fallen across his forehead. Kurt smiled tentatively and Blaine's lips quirked at the corners tired but sated and unwilling to attempt much else. Kurt pulled out slowly and carefully, holding on to the condom and throwing it in the trash before flopping back onto the desk. Blaine hissed at the sudden emptiness, his ass already beginning to twinge in a small imitation of how it would ache the next day if not a few hours later. "Did I break you?" Kurt said sheepishly as Blaine blearily blinked up at him "Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Is it-"

"Kurt I'm fine but I just got thoroughly fucked on a hardwood desk before coming so hard I still can't see straight so forgive me if I'm a little dazed." Blaine drawled his words slurring together as Kurt carefully pulled them into an upright position. "Annnd he's back" Kurt laughed, running his fingers through Blaine's hair, blue eyes roving over every inch of his bare skin.

 

"What do you say to taking a bath, grabbing something to eat and then lounging on the couch for the rest of the evening?" He suggested, pecking Blaine on the lips before helping him to his feet with an arm around his waist. "I say," Blaine grinned "why Mister Hummel you must've read my mind."

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

They ended up drinking cheap wine in the bath and ordering Chinese food for dinner. The empty cartoons lay scattered across their ramshackle coffee table as they curled up on the couch. Kurt had his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles and was reading in the light from the lounge's only and unfortunately rather dim lamp. Blaine spent the majority of the evening folded up into Kurt's side; his knees were drawn up so he could balance one of sketchbooks on them. Kurt had an arm slung around his shoulder, a hand that would rub his shoulder affectionately now and again to remind him to push his glasses back up his nose in a way that made him blush pleasantly.

 

As the night wore on Blaine's pencil began to slip from his grasp, his glasses hanging precariously on the tip of his nose as his eyes started to slide shut. He burrowed into Kurt's warmth not even noticing when his head slid into his lap, cheek pillowed against his pyjama clad thighs as the rest of his body curled up between him and the armrest. He vaguely felt, his glasses being taken off and his sketchbook being wrenched out of his hands before he could feel soft familiar fingers carding through his curls. He smiled allowing himself to relax, blissfully heartache free at least for a little while.

 

"Sweet dreams, Blaine." Kurt whispered a fond smile threatening to tug at his lips.

 

_‘"You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you. That's where I'll be waiting."'_


	7. Chapter 7

Awake and present, Blaine didn't want to think about how the look on Kurt's face made him feel, that small smile and those soft azure eyes that kept glancing over at him from the tiny kitchen, as if Blaine might disappear. Early morning and the apartment was deathly cold so Blaine remained curled up under a blanket on the couch, by Kurt's insistence. He could hear Kurt rattling around, determined to make ‘the best damn soup you've ever had Anderson so you just stay right there' and Blaine didn't have the energy to argue. Kurt said he was getting sick. Blaine said he was just tired.

 

Kurt presented him with the best bowl of chicken noodle soup he'd ever tasted but that was besides the point. If he was sick it was barely more than a mild bout of the common cold but no, Kurt had assumed it was some deadly form of Influenza. He bustled around brewing him tea and fluffing pillows, producing box upon box of tissues that seemed to materialise from thin air and more vitamins than he even knew existed. Blaine played along thinking that by the afternoon Kurt would have gotten it out of his system. It wasn't until a cup of cough syrup was thrust in front of his face come early evening that Blaine had decided he'd had enough.

 

"Kurt, no I'm not taking that." Blaine said crossing his arms and shifting away from him on the couch.

"Blaine come on it'll help." Kurt begged brow furrowed as he held the medicine out in front of him.

"I don't even have a cough, I haven't coughed once."

"I just think-"

"Are you trying to drug me, is that what this is? Couldn't manage anything better than an unwarranted dose of cough medicine?"

"What? No, of course-"

"Then why?" Blaine grunted, standing up abruptly. Blood rushed to his head and caused him to sway on his feet, his cold and the sudden dizziness making him unsteady. Kurt lunged forward but Blaine jerked back, balling up the blanket angrily and throwing it to the ground.

 

Blue eyes stared at him, wide, sad and scared. Kurt just stood, shoulders slumping in a way that would've made Blaine walk over to him and kiss him breathless with no preamble and no hesitation but not this time, not when he made him feel like such a  _child_.

 

"I just want to look after you." Kurt sighed, defeated and shamefaced.

"I thought I had a lover not a nanny." Blaine spat back, grabbing his glasses and shoving his books into his satchel.

"You know I don't thin-"

"What?" Blaine growled, searching the couch cushions for his sketchbook "You don't think I'm just some dumb, struggling kid that needs all the help he can get? It was just an added bonus that you got a pity fuck out of it while you showed off how noble you are!" Kurt watched, frozen in abject horror and guilt as Blaine stormed around the apartment, sniffling and rubbing furiously at his watering eyes, so determined, so  _stubborn_  that he wouldn't let a single tear fall. "Stop," Kurt whispered, he gripped Blaine's arm and tugged him back forcing him to look at him "you know that's not what we are." Blaine wrenched his arm from his grasp and glared.

"Really?" He shouted desperately "Then what are we?"

 

Kurt fell silent, not able to meet Blaine's eyes as his thoughts evaded him, terror and hurt and confusion, thorns in his side and a cage on his heart. "What are we?" Blaine asked again choking back a sob as he let the tears fall "You're leaving soon, and I'm falling apart but I don't even have the right to be angry. You've made no declarations so you've never lied and made no promises that you could possibly break. So you tell me Kurt, what are we?"

 

Before Kurt spoke he knew his next words wouldn't be enough, it would never be enough "I- I just want you - want to take care of you." Blaine let out a humourless laugh, muffled, harsh and bitter. "I'm not your Cinderfella remember?" He muttered as he tugged on his jacket and opened the door "I can take care of myself."

 

The door slammed shut behind him and Kurt stood in the middle of the room, waiting for the burning behind his own eyes to subside and the lump in his throat to disappear. He sat at his desk, worked a new sheet of blank paper into his rusty typewriter and continued on.

 

_\- Chapter 14 -_

_The beginning of the end_

**.oO0Oo.**

His flight was booked for the next day and he felt dread settle cold and heavy in his chest at the thought of telling Blaine, it made his chest feel tight and his eyes begin to blur but he ignored it, wandering away from his writing to make coffee. The apartment was eerily silent for a Sunday afternoon, devoid of Blaine's bright laugh or beautiful warm voice singing some old ballad that Kurt had never heard before but loved instantly.

 

It hit him suddenly just how much he'd miss him. He'd thought about it before but it hadn't physically  _hurt_  to think about how he wouldn't wake up next to him every morning or come home to see him curled up on the couch, glasses sliding off his nose and a pencil gripped between his fingers. He'd miss his smile and his molten gold eyes and his soft curly hair. He'd miss his skin and the sound of his sweet moans and panting breaths. He'd miss all that they had but didn't have at the same time, what could've been if it had been a different time if they themselves were different.

 

He climbed out onto the fire escape and remembered the morning he'd stood in the frigid, soot soaked air and wrapped his arms around a stranger. A stranger that spoke of art like it was the very beat of his heart, colour and composition the blood in his veins. He had been a lover who's every breath was music. If Kurt could have put into words all that Blaine was then he would have had a novel worth writing. Blaine, however, was beyond words, the first and only person to leave Kurt speechless, wanting for a way to describe the feeling that filled him whenever he caught his eye.

 

Blaine's things were scattered around the apartment, Kurt himself was wearing one of Blaine's oversized jumpers and it felt as though he was already gone, swimming in the remnants of something that was never really anything. It was no one's fault but his, knowing that he'd have to leave eventually but being too selfish to deny himself Blaine and in the process risking losing him indefinitely.

 

Blaine Devon Anderson, quietly fierce, breathtaking, simply beautiful. Blaine, someone Kurt Elizabeth Hummel had to say goodbye to.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

After spending the afternoon with Maggie Blaine walked carefully into the apartment, tip toeing across the living room and being careful not to knock over end tables and knick knacks with his satchel stuffed with books that Maggie had pulled from the shelves and shoved into his arms. He deposited everything in his room before crossing the hall and peeking through the crack in Kurt's door. He saw Kurt moving from his closet to the bed and knew instantly that he must be packing, piling away his life and belongings before moving away,  _moving on_. And Blaine was stuck as firmly as the lump in his throat as he pushed open the door without knocking, Kurt paused half way across the room, boxers and socks in hand.

 

"Hi" Blaine whispered eyes downcast and voice cracking. Kurt dropped what he was holding and then they were kissing, hard and fierce. Kurt could taste the salt, thumbs slipping in tear tracks as he brushed across Blaine's cheeks. Blaine could feel the tremor of Kurt's shoulders, his arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he gripped his waist.

 

Pulling back abruptly Blaine took a deep breath, forcing his eyes to stay shut and try and quell the tears. He could feel Kurt's breath against his neck, hot and hitching. When his eyes opened his tears ceased to fall and he tore from Kurt's arms to send his suitcase crashing to the floor, its contents spilling across the bedroom floor like a flash flood.

 

He stood staring at the mess until Kurt took his face in his hands and crushed his lips to his, kissing deep and dirty and desperate like he couldn't get enough, like he'd never get enough. They fell, limbs tangled and hands frantic to the bed. Blaine clambered on top, kissing and sucking at any expanse of skin he could reach, rocking his hips messily down into Kurt's. "Shh shh baby, we don't-" Kurt whispered as Blaine muffled his whimper in his neck.

"No just please-" Blaine replied pulling back and searching Kurt's expression "j-just give me this please I don't-"

"Okay"

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Blaine rested his head on Kurt's shoulder as he watched him work himself open, muttering into sweat slick skin as Kurt arched and writhed and mewled from pleasuring himself and Blaine's hot, eager hands, touching him, adoring him,  _loving_  him, inch by inch. Kurt's hips jolted off the bed and Kurt's shaking lube slick hands scrambled over Blaine shining skin, nails scratching down his back as he hauled him on top of him once more with a constant mantra of ‘now please, please, please'.

 

Nothing else mattered but the feel of Kurt around him, the scrape of nails down his back and the softness of his hair pulled taught between his fingers. They lost themselves in it, the push and pull of it, bodies sliding slick with sweat, patches wet from sucking kisses and teasing tongues. Blaine buried his face in Kurt's neck, pressing close and breathing him in, the steady thrust of his hips out of sync with the pounding of his heart.

 

Kurt arched under him, mouth finding his and kissing for all he was worth, biting and panting through messy kisses, off centre and imperfect, but enough finally enough. The heat coiled up inside him, Kurt's moans and whimpers echoing through the humid air and seeping through his skin rattling his very bones. "Come for me" Kurt whined tugging on Blaine's curls and tightening around him.

 

His lungs burnt and his eyes stung as the heat crashed through him, burning white hot as he continued to thrust into Kurt harder and deeper until he cried out, keening as come coated both their chests. Blaine collapsed on top of him, trembling muscles giving out after what seemed like hours. He claimed Kurt's lips again and again, not giving him a chance to speak, to ask the questions he inevitably wouldn't be able to answer without breaking.

 

They cleaned up in silence falling back into bed to kiss and touch and remember until long after the sun had set. Kurt blinked heavily and Blaine marvelled at the glow of his skin in the silvery moonlight, like a spot light and Kurt was on stage, front and centre exposed and shining. Blaine could never get enough, there were never enough kisses or dates or nights in each other's arms. There wasn't enough time. Soon Kurt would be gone, and all that would be left is Blaine and an empty apartment that would never feel like home so long as his heart was absent. They kissed and stared, savouring every second until sleep swamped them and stole their final hours.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

The sun had barely risen when Kurt woke up the next morning to catch his flight. He showered, dressed and finished packing all while Blaine was still sleeping, curled up and warm under the messy sheets. He took a few minutes to watch him as he slept, at his most peaceful and care free. He let his finger graze across his sleep warmed cheeks, let his hands stroke the loose curls back from his forehead, his nose crinkling adorably in his sleep as he felt Kurt comb through his hair. Placing a feather light kiss to his lips Kurt left the room with a lingering, tear filled glance to Blaine's sleeping form.

 

With his suitcases by the door Kurt walked over to his desk to leave Blaine the letter he'd written when he noticed a package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. On it, in Blaine's messy scrawl was written: ‘To be opened in Chicago. Take me with you'. With a small smile Kurt exchanged the package for his own letter, clutching it to his chest before stowing it safely in his satchel. A fond look towards the fire escape and he turned, opening the door and closing it behind him with a dull and final sounding thud

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

_My beautiful Blaine,_

_A letter is a coward's way of saying goodbye but I'm afraid I was never as brave as you. You know how to contact me but I doubt that you will, after all my good intentions are no excuse for what I've left in my wake. So I am almost certain that this is a goodbye. Do believe me when I say I wish it wasn't but if there's one thing I ever prove in my life it's that older doesn't always result in the individual being wiser. You've taught me so much. I've learnt that art and music can be someone's heart and soul, I've learnt that kindness has no limits and I've learnt that even the most bruised and scarred individuals can be strong again._

_I only ever wanted to make you feel wanted, to give you all the great things you deserve. But I failed. You deserve more, so much more than my selfishness. I watched you break after Jonah and I hate the fact that you'll break again and this time because of me. I thought avoiding declarations and promises would hurt us less, that they wouldn't be broken or leave us disappointed. I was wrong, everything's uncertain and confusing and fucking frustrating and I knew, I knew from the start. I couldn't let you go but now I have to._

_You're so beautiful baby, so intelligent and talented and confident. You can do anything, anything you want and be brilliant, fantastic, breathtaking, awe inspiring. But seeing you neck deep in books or singing your heart out or sketching with your glasses perched on the tip of your nose, you're already all those things without even trying. You're a supernova Blaine Anderson, and one the universe will never forget._

_Be happy sweetheart, you deserve that and the world on a string._

 

_All my affection, forever and always_

_Kurt_

_‘"The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do so."'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page breaks. Everywhere. I'm so sorry.


	8. Chapter 8

By the time Blaine woke up the other side of the bed had long since gone cold, the warmth from Kurt's body absent, just like the man himself. The remnants of hope disintegrated into dust as he stared around the room bleary eyed and exhausted and found no sign of him. It was as if he had never been there. The feeling stung like salt in fresh wounds and burned like venom coursing through his veins. The memories just left aching caverns in his chest, empty and void but for the distant echo of his laugh, the fading image of his smile.

 

He stumbled out of bed, put on the first items of clothing he could find and left the apartment, grabbing the letter left in his parcel's place as he went.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Maggie found him curled up in the reading nook at the end of the classic literature section, clutching the letter and a copy of J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan and sobbing into its pages. Her heart ached for him. She hadn't seen such sadness since her dear James passed. She bent down as well as she could to help dry his tears but they wouldn't stop. He looked up at her, eyelashes clumped by the wetness, and she had never seen those golden eyes so pained, so hopeless, so sorrowfully empty. She stared at his shaking frame and wondered how someone could hurt a soul so beautiful. Blaine Anderson made heartbreak look like the most devastating beauty on Earth.

 

She pried the book and letter from his grasp and helped him up, soothing hands leading him upstairs and to the plush lounge. She sat him down with a blanket and her monogrammed handkerchief and went to start the camomile tea. Blaine gazed blankly out of the tiny square window, tears falling silently now but hot and fast all the same. He didn't even flinch as Maggie came to sit beside him, pulling him into her arms and soothing him with gentle words.

 

"Shhh what happened my darling?" Maggie asked tentatively and Blaine just buried his face in her soft, purple shawl.

"H-he's gone" Blaine choked out "I woke up this morning without him beside me, he's gone and he's never coming back." The sobs started up again and Maggie tried valiantly to calm him but to no avail. "You don't know that sweetheart," she started, being careful about giving him false hope "he said you know how to contact him."

"He doesn't want me anymore, he made that clear."

"But Blaine-"

"But what Maggie?!" He said imploringly "I'm just a kid. I'm just a stupid, naïve, foolish kid. Why would he want a fucking kid following him around like a lost lamb? He's a successful writer, beautiful, intelligent, he could have anyone his heart desires and I'm what? A lousy artist. A lost little boy. I'm nothing."

 

Maggie gripped Blaine by the shoulders and pushed him back, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Now you listen here Blaine Devon Anderson," she began sternly "you are everything. You're young but you're smart my darling. You have phenomenal talent and a heart of gold. Besides my James you're the best man I have ever known. Mister Hummel is blind, because if he had seen that, seen  _you_ , he never would've walked away."

"I love him Maggie," Blaine sniffled looking back out the window "but I don't want to."

"Yes you do" She replied simply patting his knee.

"I do, but he won't let me."

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

_Mister Hummel,_

_I'm writing to thank you. You have given my boy the best few months of his life. He speaks fondly of you yet he asks that I apologise for the lack of contact between the two of you, he hopes you understand. Despite what you might think we do not hate you, Blaine especially far from it. Though I personally do hope you don't take offence in that your books no longer grace our shelves, for reasons I do not know. J.M Barrie's Peter Pan has also been removed from the store's classic literature section. I assume it's because it holds some significance between the two of you. Blaine has procured the copy, a beautiful green hardback edition with silver lettering; he often says that you would love it though he seems unwilling to part with it. He is in good health. I don't hate you I hold some resentment in that it was you who caused him this pain. I am a frank woman and I will not lie or be content with exchanging niceties when it comes to my boy._

_My boy, because he is a son to me you see. His parents are barely amicable people and I have no desire to ever meet them. New York has always been my home and now it is Blaine's, I do hope you realise what that means if you were ever wondering if he should follow you. He won't. There will be no chase. He simply aims to leave you be, not be a nuisance and allow you to live and love as you see fit. He is attempting to do the same, yet he hasn't much faith in love anymore Mister Hummel and I know you know that._

_I will not implore you to confess what I know you feel for my boy but prompt you to remember one thing: ‘_ _"Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting."_ _'_

_Should you choose to return, tread carefully, one broken heart is sometimes necessary, another at the hand of the same individual is unforgivable._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Maggie Atkinson_

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

_Dear Blaine,_

_I'm not surprised that you haven't answered any of my letters or returned any of my calls, replied to any of my messages given our circumstances. Maybe it's cruel of me to keep trying so desperately to keep us tethered when I'm sure you most likely just want to forget. Words can't express how sorry I am and how much I miss you. Perhaps it's cruel of me to say that too. Please tell Maggie that her letter is much appreciated and that I'm thankful that she cares so much for you. Tell her that I understand but that it's complicated. Although, I'm starting to think that it's just me that has made things that way. The book sounds wonderful but you keep it sweetheart, it's much too precious for me now._

_Chicago is magnificent but it's not New York. It's lonely here and grey, but I can't decide if it's the city or the fact that you're not in it. I'm in the midst of negotiations with the publishers. My editor is discouraged. He says my novel is ‘too emotional and it lacks poise and delicacy'. I can hear you now telling me how that it's bullshit and that I should get myself a new editor. I'm afraid it's not that simple._

_I haven't opened the parcel yet, I want to but I haven't and I don't know why. I hope you're well and send Maggie my regards. Please just tell me if this is too much, if you want me to stop writing. I'll do whatever you feel is best._

_All my affection, forever and always_

_Kurt_

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

~~_Dear Kurt,_ ~~

~~_I miss you too. If you ever want to come back_ ~~

~~_Dear Kurt,_ ~~

~~_Chicago_ _sounds great. Good luck. Don't worry about me. I'm fi_ ~~

~~_Dear Kurt,_ ~~

~~_I love you. Please, I know you don't feel the same but I can't just_ ~~

_Dear Kurt,_

_I'm so sorry. I can't do this, whatever this is. Please stop trying to contact me. Maybe someday._

_All my love, forever and always_

_Blaine_

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Kurt hated Chicago. There was nothing wrong with Chicago in particular but Kurt despised it. He woke up every morning wondering why he had even left but then he remembered. The career as a novelist he had let crash and burn as a result of his father's death, the career he was trying to rebuild. After five years without so much as a short story he was hit with inspiration, watching a boy with sure hands and a ragged looking sketch book sit alone in a coffee shop window in New York.

 

Five years wasn't necessarily a long time for a novelist. He would most likely have passed off the interlude as respite or a chance to focus solely on his next work when in actuality, after his father died, his world fell apart. No one quite understood either, what it felt like to lose the only parent he had left. He felt as though he'd lost the very last person he could count on, that he could trust completely.

 

He knew eventually that there was nothing to do but write. That day in that tiny coffee shop he saw a boy, practically a man, sitting by himself bent over the table, coffee by his side and sketching away furiously. A small smile graced his lips as he worked, brows drawn low in concentration, pencil flitting precisely across the page. His clothes were too big, white shirt and a navy blue jumper slipping off his shoulders but he was handsome, stunning,  _captivating_  as the late afternoon bathed his tanned skin in golden light. A man, tall with lanky, dirty, blond hair walked over, cupped the artists jaw and kissed him pulling back with a glance in his direction and a smirk curling his lips. Kurt hated him, even then. If even just because of the jealousy he felt clawing its way under his skin. The other man had seemed oblivious, his radiant smile dropping into a frown as his boyfriend said something and then hastily left again.

 

The man looked down at his worked and sniffled, quickly wiping at his eyes as he glanced around, checking if anyone had noticed. Kurt had. As the man went back to work, sipping at his drink daintily every now and again, Kurt kept glancing down at the empty journal in front of him, mocking him with its blank pages.

 

By closing time Kurt had an idea and eight words.

 

_\- Chapter 1 -_

_The boy with a breaking heart_

**.oO0Oo.**

It was one night. One night after a month in Chicago and Kurt had realised he'd made a mistake. A mistake he couldn't remember the name of. He'd woken up naked, in his bed, with a man he didn't remember meeting. Getting blackout drunk was not something Kurt Hummel did. Sleeping with a stranger he had no intention of seeing again was not something Kurt Hummel did. Yet he'd done it, endless nights with no sleep and a pair of whiskey coloured eyes following him in his mind's eye, forcing him into an abyss of guilt and shame.

 

He showered and dressed, waiting with bated breath until he heard the unmistakable sound of the front door closing behind the unnamed man. Sighing in relief he walked to the lounge, dragging his feet as he went. He checked his phone, staring almost unseeingly at the screen. No missed calls, no text messages. With a flutter of hope that should never have been there he trudged down to collect his mail, his heart in his throat as he flipped through the envelopes.

 

Stopping on a crinkled envelope, Kurt noticed Blaine's messy handwriting, blotchy and smudged like it had been caught in a downpour. He ripped it open, eyes devouring the short message with a sinking heart.

 

_Dear Kurt,_

_I'm so sorry. I can't do this, whatever this is. Please stop trying to contact me. Maybe someday._

_All my love, forever and always_

_Blaine_

 

It was time. He made his way slowly back up the stairs, into his apartment and to his writing desk. There lay the parcel still pristinely wrapped and tied in brown paper and string, the label tied on tight. He picked it up with trembling hands, fingertips brushing across it reverently. Slowly, so slowly, he untied the bow, carefully removing the paper to expose a beautiful leather bound sketchbook. On the front, embossed in silver, were Blaine's initials. It looked expensive, different to all the other various sketchbooks Kurt had seen Blaine work in.

 

He lifted the cover tentatively to find a hand written letter taped to the inside.

 

_My beautiful Kurt,_

_I hope you like the book. Maggie and James gave it to me as a gift a long time ago. I never had the heart to work in it, until now. It's a memento, if you haven't guessed already, something for you to remember me by after you leave for Chicago. I think you'll find the contents very revealing, I guess there are a lot of things I chose not to tell you while you were with me but I couldn't live with the thought of you ever knowing. So, here we are._

_Your tattoo design is on page five; it's completely up to you if you want to get it. I mean the design isn't even really that good, just something simple I thought you might like. The rest is sort of hard to put into words, that's why I'm the artist and you're the writer, however I guess even words fail you sometimes._

_If you don't like the book you can always send it back to me. Even if you can't bear to keep it I'd rather you return it, there are some things I'd hate to see destroyed._

_I know it's kinda silly and overdramatic and maybe it's the teenager in me that's decided to do something this sentimental but still, what's the harm in trying?_

_I don't hate you, I don't think I could ever hate you so don't beat yourself up too much okay? I'm angry but I shouldn't be really, I knew what I was getting into, I never asked for anything more, you never wanted anything more and I respect that. It's okay I promise._

_I'll probably try to cut you off but it won't work. I can't stay away. Either way, with you or without you, it's gonna be too hard. It is what it is. What will be will be. As the clichés go, you were the best._

_Thank you for being there for me, for showing me beauty and for bringing me alive. I'll be forever grateful to you for giving me just those things and nothing more._

_I hope you find happiness soon Kurt. I hope you fall in love with an amazing guy who's good to you and makes you smile. I hope you find the ending to your story and always remember: ‘"_ _The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it."'_

_All my love, forever and always_

_Blaine_

**.oO0Oo.**

_\- Chapter 27 -_

_Time to fly_

_I was once told by a dear friend of mine that love brings two things: euphoria and paralysis. He told me that love was a gift, and I would always be happily terrified to both give and receive it. What he unfortunately chose to omit, is that it takes a few too many drinks, the biggest mistake of your life and an earth shattering epiphany for some to fucking figure it out. What's even more unfortunate is that I never knew I'd be one of those people. In other words, the type of individual I'm referring to is simply: an idiot._


	9. Chapter 9

Blaine picked up the phone with shaking hands and dialled the number his eyes always nervously skipped past as he scrolled through his contacts. He folded the newspaper carefully, smoothing out the pages with his fingertips as his eyes scanned the article again and again.

 

_"Hi this is Kurt Hummel, if your name is Mathew Hawkes then kindly fuck off and stop calling me, if you're anyone else leave a message and I'll try and get back to you."_

Blaine waited for the tone and drew in a shaky breath, cursing his voice for trembling. "H-hi Kurt it's uh Blaine. You're probably busy right now that's okay. I just called to say congratulations! New York Times Best Seller eh? That's great! You're editor is an idiot, ‘too emotional and lacking poise and delicacy'? Who does that douche bag think he is?" Blaine broke off, hysterical laughter stuttering and hitching in his throat. "A-anyway I um, I haven't read it yet, Maggie is er she wants to put your stuff back on the shelves, make a big thing of it so I'll probably read it when she gets it in. I'm sorry I haven't called or anything I've been-"  _avoiding you? Hiding?_ "Busy."  _You're a liar Blaine Anderson._  "I should probably go this was way longer than I thought it was gonna be,"  _than I wanted it to be_  "call me back sometime? Or don't, it's fine either way anyway okay take care bye."

 

He ended the call and leant against the tiny kitchen island, heart beating rapidly like a hummingbird's wings. He'd done it. He'd finally plucked up the courage to get into contact with Kurt after months of forcing himself to stay silent, to let him move on without him. He had done well, succeeding in staying away. Despite everything however, it was both so impossibly easy and excruciatingly hard. It was so easy to convince himself that it was for the best. It was easy because it hurt too much to even think about him let alone hear his voice over the phone or see him on Skype. On the other hand, it was hard because he loved him, and no matter how many times he tried to convince himself that it wasn't going to happen, that they weren't going to be together, he just couldn't let go. He couldn't go to a club without thinking he'd caught a glimpse of him somewhere in the crowd, couldn't go to their coffee shop on the corner without thinking about the old lady who had mistaken them for being a couple and how Blaine had desperately wished that they actually were. He couldn't go on dates with other guys no matter how sweet and attractive they were because he just couldn't stop thinking out how they didn't smile like him, or talk like him, act like him,  _fuck_  like him. They didn't make him blush or grin or giggle. They didn't make him moan or writhe or whimper. They didn't make him  _love_  them. They weren't  _Kurt_.

 

With every day that past he felt more and more drawn to Kurt's novel. He'd seen it regularly in the windows of countless book stores, the unsettlingly large poster of Kurt's author portrait staring back at him in black and white. Needless to say he often hurried past those stores, reluctant to catch the eye of the emotionless photograph. Within a few days of Blaine's call, Kurt's books were back on the shelves of Maggie's quaint little book shop. He'd held ‘A Picture for a Poet' in his hands on countless occasions but never turned it over to read the blurb or dared open to the first page and actually read the words it bore.

 

Tired of his hesitance, Maggie had taken it upon herself to slip the book into his satchel one afternoon just before closing. As Blaine reached into his bag upon that evening to retrieve his glasses, his fingertips brushed the silver embossed spine and he couldn't help but marvel at how someone as disarmingly charming and sweet as Maggie Atkinson could be so sly and conniving. He pulled the book out with sure hands and placed it on his writing desk, convincing himself to leave it for the weekend.

 

Blaine filled his days with half-lies and almost-truths. He was relatively busy, he had an upcoming exhibit at NYU to prepare for, school work to complete and a job to go to but it wasn't as if he had so little time that he couldn't spend five minutes composing an email or simply giving Kurt a quick call. He grew tired. His head was barely ever clear and was plagued with so much confusion that he was seldom without a headache. He carried on. Smiled when he was happy, cried when the sadness took its toll. He embraced it all with wide eyes and a heavy heart.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

The exhibit was held on a Friday evening in NYU's Silver Center. All the students showcasing their work were dressed to impress including Blaine. Standing proudly by his pieces he'd never felt so accomplished. His pride shone brightly as he spoke passionately about his concepts and technique to all those who stopped by to ask him questions. He was one step closer, his first big show and he had the coveted middle panel spot, his peers eying him with envy. Still he only smiled back, praising pieces where praise was due. He was in his element.

 

"Blaine" someone called from behind him and he turned to find none other than Jonah, grinning and looking exceedingly dashing in his silver suit.

"Jonah hi!" Blaine breathed out, smiling just as wide despite his history with the man.

"How are things?" Jonah asked tentatively and Blaine paused for a while, thinking.

"They're good," he replied, accepting Jonah's awkward hug "they're um really good, how are things with you?"

"I um better," Jonah mumbled, voice low as he sipped at his champagne "I'm in a programme for err you know so. It's hard but better." Tears glistened in Blaine's eyes as he heard the news, squeezing the man's hand with a watery smile. "I'm glad," he said just as quietly "and I'm proud of you, truly I am."

 

Jonah looked at him in disbelief, taking in the man before him. He was so confident now, and seemed so strong and unstoppable. It had taken him a long time to realise that his path was taking him somewhere he didn't want to go, shaping him into someone he didn't want to be. He woke up, thankfully, and with Blaine standing before him shining beautifully with pride and passion he realised what a mistake he'd made in letting him go.

 

"I'm sorry Blaine," he said sincerely for the first time in his life "I'm sorry I hurt you a-and that I was a fucking asshole to you. You deserved a whole lot better and I'm sorry I was never the one to give you that." He could feel his own eyes start to fill with unshed tears and Blaine just squeezed his hand a little tighter, gaze unwavering.

"I forgive you," he said simply "I can't excuse what you did, it hurt more than you know but I forgive you. You gave me a chance to grow, and learn and realise sometimes things aren't always as they seem."

 

"You-" Jonah cleared his throat, "You're too good for this world B. You're too good for any of us." Blaine hit him playfully on the shoulder.

"You make me sound like such a snob!" He laughed, bright and unrestrained and Jonah smiled so wide he thought his jaw might unhinge as a result. He had loved this ridiculous, clever, breathtaking boy once. "Honestly though Blaine, I meant it."

"Meant what?"

"That you're beautiful. And in another life I think I would still be in love with you."

 

"Thank you," Blaine whispered, snuggling close and leaning into Jonah's arm around his waist, happy to be close to a person who used to mean so much to him and in many ways still did "in another life I think so too."

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Kurt Hummel was late. He'd had everything planned out to the last minute detail as soon as he'd gotten ‘the call' but it seemed that, with getting a new agent he couldn't guarantee he was going to get a competent one. Interviews were rescheduled hastily and some then cancelled if they really couldn't handle him needing to reschedule so short notice. His flight was delayed by three hours, the subway was a nightmare, his hair was falling out of place and his bowtie was crooked. He sprinted up the steep stone steps toward the building and its entrance, he flashed his (difficult to acquire) invitation at the doormen and tried to compose himself before making his way up the spiral stair case, his sweaty palms clinging to the wrought iron balustrade.

 

He hovered just outside the gallery for a moment, steeling his nerves and smoothing down his hair before striding in with faux confidence and scanning the room. The room was filled with a multitude of pieces but none caught his eye quite like the work imaginatively framed on the central wall. Instantly, he recognised them as Blaine's. If not from what he'd already seen of his work but for the title he'd given his collection. There, backed in emerald green and written in beautiful, silver cursive hung the word ‘Neverland'. Slowly, he walked toward it with awe, skilfully dodging waiters and other viewers alike. Blaine's work was astonishing, every bit just as detailed as the next. He'd captured the very essence of Neverland: to live freely and happily, to never grow up.

 

Ripping his eyes away he searched for Blaine himself, spotting him talking animatedly and laughing with a man and a woman by a large sculpture. It took a little while for him to be able to take in anything but Blaine, momentarily and blissfully stunned by his beaming smile, his graceful posture and broad shoulders. A few dismal moments later however, he began to notice. He noticed the arm around his waist and the lips pressed against his ear, whispering something that made Blaine blush that divine shade of pink. He watched as Blaine pulled back slightly, swatting the man on the arm playfully and that's when the man's face finally came into view.

 

His irrational jealousy quickly transformed to unprecedented bitter resentment and rage. At first he had felt bad for feeling so envious of the other man. Of course Blaine would've moved on, he'd never had any right to Blaine, he couldn't have expected Blaine to just run into his arms upon his return. He looked happy, glowing with something that hadn't been there before and Kurt just simply ached to touch, to feel soft, warm skin against his own again. He ached but he'd been foolish to assume that he would have waited for him, that his world would've simply stopped turning because he wasn't there, like Kurt's had.

 

Anger, he was burning with it all because the man whom Blaine had been held so close by was none other than Jonah. The very same man who had treated Blaine as if he were nothing, whom Kurt had quickly come to hate as he'd learnt bit by bit just how much he'd hurt the one person he cared so much for. For the sake of the show Kurt stood fast, keeping his distance and watching as Blaine broke away from the group, leaving with a swift but sweet kiss to Jonah's cheek. Trying valiantly to take calming breaths he stared at the pieces in front of him, waiting for the anger and heartache to dissipate.

 

It hadn't by the time Blaine stepped up beside him, too far for him to reach out and touch but close enough so he could see the quirk to his full lips and the honey-hazel of his irises. "Hello Kurt." He said softly; quiet but loud enough to be heard above the babble of chatter echoing through the great hall.

"Hello Blaine." Kurt replied just as quietly, reaching out into the space between them and hoping. Without any hesitation Blaine met him halfway, tangling their fingers together like he used to and squeezing tight. He held on, moving closer as Kurt looked straight ahead, a smile tugging at his lips. "Welcome to the NYU Fine Art Spring Exhibition here at the Silver Centre," Blaine recited professionally with a goofy grin "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." Kurt said simply, smiling back at the wonderfully silly boy before him.

"I-um you shouldn't have, what with your new book and all you must be really busy with everything an-"

"-and I  _wanted_  to see you." Kurt cut him off, tugging on his hand to bring him closer. "You look good." He added awkwardly.

"Thank you. So do you." Eyes flitting from Kurt's lips to his eyes and back again Blaine mumbled out a reply. He pulled back quickly, skin flushing a deep red as he smiled wide and genuine.

 

"This means a lot to me Kurt, thank you for coming to see my work."

"It's a pleasure." Kurt said sincerely, staring up at a picture of a man, supposedly Peter all grown up sitting at a very familiar desk at a very familiar typewriter. Silence descended as both men stared up at the picture, hands linked between them keeping them tethered, together once more. "We have a lot to talk about." Blaine looked at Kurt directly for the first time since he'd arrived. "Can't the words wait?" Kurt asked almost desperately "For now?"

"The words can wait." Blaine whispered, tugging him away by the hand and toward the exit, giving Jonah a wave at his knowing smile as they passed "They can wait, just for now."

 

_‘"Take care, lest an adventure is now offered you, which, if accepted, will plunge you in deepest woe."'_


	10. Chapter 10

"Well er-" Blaine muttered from the centre of the room, gesturing for Kurt to follow him inside the apartment "I was going to say welcome home but I guess that's Chicago now." He smiled weakly, shrugging out of his jacket. "I wouldn't say it's home per se," Kurt replied distractedly, glancing around at the newly painted walls, the cracks in them no longer visible "I'm not awfully fond of Chicago. It doesn't seem to have all that New York has to offer." Blaine laughed lightly, sweet smile still gracing his lips.

 

"Hmmm a house certainly isn't a home without screaming neighbours, faulty wiring and a landlord that was recently arrested and charged for tax evasion."

"John was arrested?" Kurt said incredulously.

"John was a greedy asshole whose rent was extortionate and happened to think I was hooker." Blaine replied dryly.

"What the fuck?"

"I know, trust me, it was so bizarre and just  _hilarious_. A lot's happened in the past six months."

"It sounds like it," seating himself on the couch, Kurt attempted to tug Blaine down with him "tell me everything."

"Oh I will baby," Blaine placated him sweetly, pulling his hand back and making his way toward the bathroom "I'm just gonna shower and change and then I'll be right with you. Talk in ten?"

 

"Yeah, sure, of course" Kurt said, nodding and staring up at Blaine framed by the dim light of the bathroom. Saying nothing and biting his lip, Blaine spun round shutting the door behind him and leaving Kurt alone in a place that felt so familiar yet looked so very different.

 

The walls had all been re-plastered and papered, painted a generic off-white except for the central wall and the wall of the fire escape. The old brickwork surrounding the rickety sash window had been exposed and touched up, making the room feel surprisingly warm and homely. The central wall had been painted a rich, dark green that contrasted perfectly with the deep red of the brick. Some of Blaine's paintings still hung from the walls, many Kurt recognised and a few he didn't.

 

There were new pillows, and a sturdier looking coffee table and an exotic looking rug, all new additions to the apartment. Kurt's writing desk still stood next to the window, it's surface bare but for a neat carving, words etched into the wood and painted over to make them stand out against the grain. 'It may have been quixotic, but it was magnificent' it read, and Kurt couldn't help but laugh as he brushed his fingers across the phrase.

 

Blaine had made himself a home at long last. Everywhere he looked he could see parts of him. He saw Blaine's eyes in the green of the leaves on a small stained glass lamp shade. He saw Blaine's hands in the roughness of the exposed brick, Blaine's skin in the smooth hardwood floor. He saw Blaine's smile in the array of quirky coffee cups stacked neatly by the sink and in the amount of cigarette butts in the ashtray on the windowsill. He saw Blaine's heart in the easel placed reverently in the right hand corner, in the books and music on the bookshelf, title upon title, and pile upon pile. Blaine had made himself a home alright, a life even. What hurt Kurt the most was that he had missed his chance to be a part of it, and in turn, a part of Blaine.

 

A short rap on the front door broke Kurt from his thoughts, and after a quick glance toward the bathroom, he moved to answer it. It felt strange to answer the door in an apartment he no longer lived in but he unbolted it and turned the doorknob just the same.

 

It was the third time that Kurt had opened the door to see Jonah on the other side and frankly each time it became more and more unpleasant. The man looked very different to what he did the last time Kurt had seen him. Finely dressed and smiling, honestly for once, Jonah hesitated shifting uncomfortably as Kurt glared, saying nothing. "To what," Kurt began, piercing eyes scrutinizing the man before him "do we owe the pleasure of seeing you standing outside this door again Jonah?" Jonah tried not to be affected by Kurt's bitterness but felt his smile slip at his obvious distaste. Just then Jonah jiggled something that he was holding carefully in his arms. "I came to drop off Blaine's portfolio; our professor was caught up with the exhibition and forgot to hand Blaine's back so I offered to bring it to him." Jonah said defiantly, lifting his chin and maintaining eye contact even as he felt the heavy book slip in his sweaty hands.

 

"I'll see that he gets it." Replying curtly Kurt reached for the portfolio just as Jonah pulled it back. "But I-"

"Kurt? Jonah is that you out there?" Blaine's voice called as he peered at them from the lounge, making his way toward them barefoot, in threadbare jeans and a simple white t-shirt, damp from his still wet hair. "Oh you brought my portfolio thank you so much! What would I do without you?" Blaine laughed and Kurt felt his stomach drop. "Why don't you come in and have a drink with us?" Blaine took the portfolio from Jonah, flipping through the pages and smiling fondly at his work.

"Oh n-no," Jonah stuttered, wide eyed and nervous "I wouldn't want to interrupt you or anything."

"Don't be silly," Blaine cut him off playfully, tugging him into to the apartment by the hand "there's plenty of wine and if someone doesn't drink it then I will and we all know how that ends."

 

Kurt was very familiar with how Blaine and too much wine tended to end. They'd been drunk together on multiple occasions. Occasions of note were the time they ended up painting and writing late into the early hours of the morning completely naked and the time they passed out piled on top of each other in the bathtub, sans water and again, sans clothing. Not to mention the numerous times Kurt had blown Blaine to oblivion on the rickety coffee table, so many times in fact that it eventually broke under the force of his orgasm, or the amount of times Blaine had ridden Kurt into the mattress, babbling filthy delicious things that made Kurt's toes curl in the messy sheets and that Blaine would've never dared repeat entirely sober.

 

Jonah snorted, grinning from ear to ear and Kurt silently seethed with anger at the thought that Jonah had probably sometime been a part of such escapades, and having known Blaine longer, he'd had a part in a lot more of them than Kurt himself had. With a grin as big as Jonah's, Blaine offered them a wink, telling them to help themselves to wine as he went to his bedroom to put away the portfolio.

 

Dropping his strained smile and without even looking at Jonah, Kurt strode toward the kitchen. He poured himself a large glass of red wine, drank three quarters of it and turned to glare at Jonah, his right hand squeezed menacingly around a corkscrew. "What game are you trying to play here?!" He asked coldly, glowering at him from across the room. "I'm not playing any game asshole," Jonah spat back; "I just want to be in his life."

"What, so you can fuck it up again? Don't you think it's time to give it up, don't you think you've hurt him enough?" Kurt hissed, slamming his glass down onto the counter.

"Oh that's rich," Jonah laughed humourlessly, taking a step closer "Mister Hummel, playing the fucking hero."

"Better the hero than the villain!" Seething, Kurt shook, fingers tight around the stem of his glass "You just made him fall for you, played with his heart and fucked him and then cast him aside."

 

"WHAT AND YOU DIDN'T?!" Jonah cried, voice rising "Don't try and tell me that's not exactly what you did. We're no different Kurt. You swooped in with your good looks and your charm and you what? You were a mere room mate? You just couldn't help yourself could you, couldn't resist making the beautiful young thing beg for you that's right isn't it!"

"How fucking dare you!" Kurt bellowed "At least I didn't treat him like shit. At least I helped him and swept him off his feet. At least I didn't cheat on him and hit him with a hardwood door and god knows what else while I was on meth!"

 

"You don't have a fucking clue do you?" Jonah asked, voice dropping low and dangerous "You're no better than me; you're not his guardian or his protector or whatever the fuck you think you are." He stepped in front of Kurt, staring up at him menacingly. "You're nothing to him now. Nothing. Do you hear me? You only did what you wanted, what was best for you" Jonah took a step back, lips curling in disgust but his eyes betrayed him. "You're as fucked up and as selfish as I am Mister Hummel. The only difference is, I admit it."

 

Kurt lunged at him. They crashed into the wall and grappled until they fell to the floor, smashing the stained glass lamp and the coffee table in the middle of the room. Jonah pinned Kurt amongst the broken glass, the shards cutting his skin until Kurt wriggled free with a swift kick to the gut. It happened fast and clumsily and they barely noticed when Blaine came running into the room, screaming at them to stop. Blaine attempted to pull Kurt back but was too late as Kurt's fist connected with Jonah's cheek and he slumped to the floor, heart pounding and ears rushing with blood as he stared at the bruised figure on the floor next to him and then up at Blaine's horrified, tear stained face.

 

"Get out!" He screamed at them both, walking until his back hit the wall. It took a few moments for Kurt to realise he'd started crying, watching as if through a looking glass at Blaine, trembling and sobbing with anger. "Leave! Go! Get out!" He screamed again, voice completely broken; his eyes lost looking as they met with Jonah's sorrowful glance as he dragged himself out of the apartment. "Blaine I'm so-" Kurt started desperately reaching out, but was stopped abruptly when Blaine flinched, shaking his head violently. "Get the fuck out and don't come back Kurt!" Blaine cried, hoarse and sobbing uncontrollably. "Get out! Get out! Get out! Leave me the fuck alone and don't ever come back!"

 

Kurt left the apartment slowly, Jonah and Blaine's words echoing in his mind as Blaine's hollow sobs and gasping breaths carried on behind him. He didn't look back, heart breaking with every step he took. Once he'd made it out of the apartment and the door had slammed shut behind him, hiding the heart broken boy from view, he slid down the wood, choking on sobs as the bitter taste of blood and loss flooded his mouth.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Blaine stayed slumped against the wall for a long time until the tears stopped. He stood up on shaky legs and surveyed the room. It was completely wrecked, new pieces of furniture he'd spent months saving for ripped to shreds in a matter of minutes. He couldn't even find it in himself to be upset anymore, he was just so fucking angry. He'd rebuilt himself, he was following his dreams, he was  _happy_. He started to wonder why Kurt had even bothered to come back seeing as he clearly had no concern for his feelings anymore. Kurt and Jonah had fought over him as if he were some kind of prize, some precious, fragile treasure.

 

What hurt the most was that he was happy, he was working hard as usual but he was succeeding, enjoying life, enjoying his work. He made the most of what he had and he was comfortable. During his break he'd worked with the new landlord to give the apartment a total overhaul, she'd even lowered his rent and paid for all the wiring to be fixed and the walls to be re-plastered, mostly because it was illegal to be renting out accommodation with that many health and safety hazards but it was honestly much appreciated. He'd spent time and money making it exactly how he wanted, spending afternoons with Tina in their overalls painting and building flat pack furniture until their skin was cracking with dried paint and they had a chair vaguely resembling the one on the box. His hard work, his happiness was destroyed within minutes all because a couple of grown men couldn't keep their mouths shut or respect the very person whose honour they were supposedly defending.

 

Sniffling he bent down, gingerly picking up the colourful shards of his broken lamp and dumping them, one by one, into the trash. It was a lost cause now and he wouldn't be able to fix it himself. It had been an antique he'd fallen in love with instantly, just like the easel he'd had in the apartment when Jonah was living with him that he'd also had to throw away. Funny, he thought, how the men in his life seemed to, whether accidentally or not, break his things and also break his heart. Moving carefully across the floor Blaine came across the book, Kurt's novel that he'd still neglected to read, lying open and bent amongst the debris. It wasn't that he'd been avoiding it. It was just that he'd never found the time, always letting his eyes linger on it as he swept past on his way out. He picked it up and smoothed his hand over the cover, flattening the pages carefully and making sure it didn't contain any glass. With a fond glance he placed it on the couch, turning back to finish cleaning what was left of his living room.

 

He was angry and so close to being miserable again but he was at a loss of what to do next. Words of anger and hatred stuttered through his mind but he pushed them aside before they had much effect. Blaine still loved him. The fact that he'd stormed in and ruined one of the proudest nights of his life barely changed anything. He'd never stopped loving him. He was just disappointed that it had to end in a similar fashion to how it ended with Jonah: with violence and an empty feeling in his chest.

 

Once the room was relatively clear of shattered glass and splintered wood he picked up the book and left for his bedroom, turning off lights as he went. He settled in for the night, rubbing at his still damp eyes as he began to read.

 

_\- Chapter 1 -_

_The boy with the breaking heart_

 

_This is what I get for falling in love with an artist._

 

Blaine laughed out loud after reading the first line, tears falling anew as he carried on. 'And this is what I get,' he thought wryly 'for falling in love with a god damn writer.'

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

"Kurt fucking Hummel!" Blaine bellowed into the speaker of his phone.

"Blaine! I'm so so sorry and I know you said you never wanted to see me again but I just want you to know that I-"

"I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE YOU!"

"What I know I'm so sorry tell me what I can do, I'll leave you alone if that's what you want but if there's anything el-"

"Just- SHUT UP YOU ASS!" Blaine croaked, cutting him off "Just stop talking and trying to make everything better when you haven't given me a chance to explain myself asshole."

"Okay." Voice trembling, Kurt conceded.

"Your book?" He asked and Kurt could tell he was crying. "Is it-" Blaine muttered, inhaling sharply as he just kept  _crying_ , "is it about- about us?"

 

Kurt paused for a long time, listening to Blaine's hitching breaths as he tried to hold back tears, like he always tried to when he desperately wanted to stop. All his big plans, of sweeping Blaine off his feet had failed. As the saying goes 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions'. He realised that he ruined it all only because he'd finally been told the truth, and no matter how much he tried he couldn't hate Jonah for enlightening him, even after he'd punched him in the face. All those months in Chicago had left him cold and hollow and seeing Blaine smile again was like stepping out into the sun. He was going to tell him, he was so happy when he'd invited him back to the apartment, he was ready for his grand gesture, for the clichéd speech about how he moves his very soul and that he never wanted to say goodbye to him. It all came crashing down as soon as he answered Blaine's door, the truth of what he was really doing casting doubt on his feelings and on his 'good' intentions. He'd returned to his hotel room body aching as he crashed onto the bed and cried silently for the first time in a long time. He glanced at his personal copy of A Picture for a Poet and squeezed his eyes tight shut as he realised for the last, unmistakable time that he was in love with Blaine Anderson and he had been and was going to be for a very long time.

 

"No." Kurt said simply. "It isn't but it is sort of inspired by us, by you really."

"B-by me?" Blaine whispered in surprise, sniffles audible through the speaker. Kurt could just imagine him, curled up in one of the oversized jumpers he seemed so fond of, warm in bed with his glasses on and the book clutched tightly to his chest. "Yeah um," Kurt began again, a small smile tugging at his lips. "The first time I saw you wasn't at your apartment, I er actually noticed you several weeks before at a coffee shop just across the street from Maggie's."

"You were the man buried in his notebook in one of the corner booths at The Fix?" Blaine breathed, his smile almost audible.

"Yeah yo-you remember that?" Kurt gasped, astonished "I was only buried in my notebook when you weren't looking, while you were busy scribbling away-"

"I do not scribble!" He cut in indignantly.

"I couldn't take my eyes off you." Kurt finished in a whisper. There was a short pause before Blaine's voice crackled over the phone, voice light and amused.

 

"You creepy old man."

"Hey I am not a creepy old man."

"You were spying on a boy ten years your junior from a corner booth, that at least constitutes as 'creepy old man' behaviour." Blaine laughed loudly at Kurt's affronted tone, the sound making Kurt's skin tingle. "I was-" Kurt started to defend himself but he knew it was futile, hearing Blaine's warm chuckle in his ear "well whatever I just remember thinking..." He trailed off.

"Thinking what?" Blaine urged coyly.

"That you were beautiful" Kurt replied "and I almost hated Jonah instantly when I watched him leave you there. I felt like screaming at him."

"Well you've done a lot more than scream at him now" Blaine snapped, suddenly scornful "and you're paying for that lamp."

"I'll buy you a new lamp I promise and I regret punching Jonah in the face, it really hurt my hand and I think I understand something about him now that I just didn't get before."

"W-what's that?" Blaine asked, anger fading from his voice.

 

"When I watched him leave you that day at The Fix I was so irrationally angry at him for being so closed off. He just gave you a swift kiss and was gone and I remember thinking, as you blinked back tears might I add, that if it was me instead of Jonah that you so obviously cared for I would be staring at you from across that table, gazing enraptured at your profile and the gracefulness of your hands across the page, I'd be writing sonnets and haikus about your eyes and your smile with every moment I could bear to look away from you and poetry really isn't my forte Blaine, believe me." Blaine let out a choked laugh but otherwise stayed silent. "The more I listened to Jonah the other night the more I started to realise that maybe he isn't entirely an asshole. Maybe he realised he was in too deep and didn't want to drag you in too, maybe he knew he was ruining his life and didn't want to ruin yours. Maybe it was self sabotage or maybe he was so high he didn't even know what he was doing until he had his fucking dick in that guy. I don't know, hey he punched me in the gut and I didn't get a chance to ask him but what I do know is that he must've cared. He tried to distance himself, knowing he was fucked up, knowing he would hurt you but he couldn't stay away. I know because I did the same. I know because falling in love with you, Blaine Devon Anderson, is inevitable."

 

Kurt heard Blaine crying again and wished that he could hold him but the ending of their story was in his hands now. They didn't speak for a long time after that, Kurt clutching the phone and listening with an aching heart as Blaine sobbed. When he finally spoke it was with an attempt at light heartedness, his voice betraying him and cracking on every other word. "So I finished your book," he said "didn't they get together in the end?"

"Yeah," Kurt smiled grimly "I guess that's just one of the differences between us and them."

"But Kuuuurt," Blaine laughed through his tears "who's to say  _our_  story's over yet?"


	11. Chapter 11

"Do you hate me?"

"Are you insane?"

"-cause I'd hate me if I were you."

"Kurt how on earth, after all these months after everything I've done with you, said to you, could you think I would ever be able to hate you?" There was a lengthy pause as Kurt stared down at his coffee, brow furrowed with regret and confusion. "I broke your lamp." He said lamely.

"Yep, and you still owe me another one." Blaine beamed, reaching across the table and taking his hand.

"You're too good for me B."

"Funnily enough you're not the first person to think so."

 

It was a coffee date that wasn't really a date but kind of was anyway. Blaine had insisted that no matter how much he seemed to have meant it at the time he didn't want Kurt gone for good. He was happy to have him back, as good of friends as they could be. That's what Blaine continued to try and convince himself, they were just friends. He was adamant that he wasn't going to just accept Kurt's apology and fall straight back into his arms. Kurt had hurt him, the memory of that night a salted wound, still stinging, still fresh and open. The memory of his voice cutting and cold as he'd referred to him almost as a possession, a trinket to be kept and admired, hurtful because it came from the lips of someone he had trusted, someone who had always vowed to respect him. He needed more than an apology.

 

"I'm sorry" Kurt mumbled for the thousandth time.

"I know sweetie," Blaine replied solemnly, "I just- I need you to learn from this. I'm scared that the moment we've been out a few times and I invite you back into my life we'll fall back into the same routine. I don't want to be your trophy Kurt. I'm not some pretty face that's a prize on your mantel or another notch on your bedpost."

"I've never thought of you like that Blaine. I have  _never_  wanted you to be that for me god I- I don't know what I wanted you to be to me but I know now that I don't want to lose you, I  _can't_ lose you." Kurt rambled clutching Blaine's hand tight between both of his own.

 

"You won't," He stated "you're not gonna lose me. I thought I'd lost you once and I guess it's partially my fault too." Kurt opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by Blaine's pained expression. "I wasn't honest with you. I just let things happen without telling you how they made me feel, what they made me want with you. I let you go because after all the happiness and love and peace I had felt I still thought that I was just another chapter in your story. You made me feel special but at the same time I couldn't help but dread the moment you'd turn around and say ‘hey it's been fun bye' and then walk out the door."

 

Kurt sat silent for a long time watching as Blaine stared down at the tabletop, eyes tracing the grain of the wood as his eyelashes cast long shadows across his slightly pink cheeks. He could see that it was hard for Blaine, to finally be truthful about how Kurt had made him feel during those months, the months that had seemed so wonderful then yet were now overshadowed with the knowledge of how much hurt and confusion he had been inflicting.

 

"That's exactly what I did," he said ashamed "with nothing but a note to say goodbye." Blaine's silence said more than words ever could.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

They didn't talk much after that, drinking their coffees and exchanging shy glances until Blaine had to go to work. Kurt walked with him to the bookstore, waving at Maggie through the window before giving Blaine a tight hug and leaving.

 

Blaine sighed deeply as he entered the shop, revelling in the chime of the bell and the smell of books and wood polish. He was tired and stepping inside Maggie's bookstore, to his plush armchair and the warm atmosphere felt like coming home. He settled himself in smiling slightly as he watched Maggie make her way down the stairs, graceful and spritely no matter how much she tried to convince everyone she was ‘as creaky as a door with old hinges'.

 

"Good afternoon Maggie!" He beamed, unable to hold her searching gaze as she made it down the last few steps. He fiddled with his satchel, dragging out his sketchbook and fumbling with his glasses as he waited for her to speak. "Cut the ‘good afternoon' crap Anderson." She laughed.

"Mags!" He exclaimed, surprised but still smiling.

"When did Peter waltz back into town?" She continued regardless, striding toward the door and flipping the sign to closed.

"Maggie we only opened an hour ago."

"Yeah and now I'm closing. How about we just catch up, I'll make the tea you pick the music and you can tell me all about what's going on with Peter?"

"His name's Kurt, Maggie."

"Yeah, well no offence to his mother, God rest her soul, but I think Peter fits him better."

 

Blaine rolled his eyes at her fondly, pulling himself out of his chair and kissing her on the cheek on his way to the record player. He settled himself on the floor, legs crossed as he rifled through the old box of vinyl. He was grateful that she had decided to close the shop for the afternoon. He was so tired and elated that he doubted he could serve a customer without ensuring that they'd never return and scarring them for life. There was something about the old bookstore, empty but for Maggie and himself, that comforted him and calmed his nerves. Since the phone call with Kurt that had changed everything between them he'd been yo-yoing somewhere between ecstatic and terrified. He was unfathomably happy that Kurt was in his life and that they were working toward building a relationship that wouldn't end up hurting one or even both of them. He was happy that they were learning and discovering everything about each other that had been left unsaid or concealed the first time around. He was grateful they got a second chance.

 

He smiled as he heard Maggie humming and making her way back down the stairs, tea tray in hand with two cups and saucers from her favourite set of china. ‘Only the best for my boy' she'd said the first time they'd had afternoon tea together, holed up in the store as James mumbled good naturedly about all the business hours they were wasting together with ‘that damned record player'. It had become a tradition, a tradition that only the closest of friends could keep. She placed the tray neatly on the barely big enough mahogany coffee table and nudged his cup gently toward him. "This isn't camomile is it?" he asked, she only made him camomile when he really  _needed_  it.

"No it's caramel almond amaretti herbal tea, smells divine, a little weak but wonderfully sweet." Maggie said, settling herself in the armchair across from him, her usual cherry blossom white tea in hand. "Sweet like me?" Blaine chuckled as he set the record on the turntable. He'd picked a Nat King Cole record, noticing that it featured a song that he'd always adored but hadn't heard since the winters he'd spent with his grandparents in New England.

 

He stood, collecting his tea from the tray and sat in the armchair across from Maggie, the one that she always fondly referred to as ‘James' chair'. He clutched the delicate tea cup with both hands, and closing his eyes he inhaled the sweet scent of almonds and freshly baked raisin oatmeal cookies. When he opened them again he smiled serenely, listening intently to Maggie's gentle words as the sonorous sound of Nat King Cole continued in the background.

 

_‘They try to tell us we're too young_

_Too young to really be in love_

_They say that love's a word_

_A word we've only heard_

_But can't begin to know the meaning of'_

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

"Shhh quiet now he's asleep." Maggie hissed as Kurt stumbled over the stoop and into the store.

"He's sleeping? I can just go, come back tomorrow?" Kurt whispered, trying to close the door gently behind him without letting the bell overhead ring.

"Indeed." Maggie replied bustling him toward the front desk "He drifted off not long after five, and I'm not surprised, the poor boy's been working himself to the damned bone. Doing this for school and that for the store and going to coffee with the so-and-so back from Chicago." Kurt stood motionless at Maggie's subdued tirade.

"I- He told you, about that?" He asked.

"Honey, if he hadn't told me I would've been able to see you from across the street anyway." Maggie added as if Kurt was being exceptionally dense. "He tells me everything."

 

"Has he- has he said anything, about me?" He whispered hesitantly, huddling closer to Maggie as Blaine shifted in his sleep, his form hidden by the back of the chair.

"He said he's happy you're here mostly and that he's a little scared of how it could end again but he said trying and experiencing everything he can with you is and was worth it."

"Wow." Kurt muttered closing his eyes and inhaling sharply. His voice sounded strangled "Is that all?"

"He said that he loves you, but of course you already knew that." She said bluntly but still speaking softly "Do you love him?"

"I do," Kurt replied immediately "but I'm not- I mean we're not- ready we're not there yet, and I'm waiting I want to do this right."

"Well," she said thoughtfully "don't wait too long Peter."

"I wouldn't dream of it Mary."

 

Kurt leant over and hugged Maggie tightly as he mumbled a tired sounding ‘thank you' into her shawl covered shoulder. She gave him a sweet smile, her blue eyes twinkling in the late evening light as she pushed him gently toward a sleeping Blaine. He knelt carefully by the chair, lifting his hand to brush the curls from Blaine's forehead, to stroke the sleep warmed skin of his cheeks. He leant forward and placed a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth and smiled as he watched his eyes begin to flutter open. "Hi sweetheart" he whispered as Blaine blinked sleep away, his big brown eyes, gold in the dimming light, widening as he took in who was in front of him. "Mmm hi," he whispered back, a slow, sleepy smile curving his lips "what are you doing here?"

"I came to surprise you and maybe walk you ho- I mean to your apartment. I felt like our coffee date was cut a little short." Kurt stammered, blushing a bright pink that matched that of the bouquet of peonies he'd bought to give to Blaine. Blaine's smile grew as he took them, fingertips stroking across the delicate petals. "Thank you." He said simply, so sincere that it made Kurt's heart ache. Glancing at his watch, Blaine unfolded himself from the armchair and stood, stretching out his sore and cramped muscles. "So you're going to escort me home?" He questioned with a grin, reaching for his belongings.

"If you're in need of an escort?" Kurt added, holding the door open for Blaine and waving goodbye to Maggie over his shoulder.

"I'm not," Blaine replied, and Kurt's shoulders slumped in disappointment "but our coffee date did get cut a little short."

"Then let me walk you home and maybe we can continue another time. Okay?" Kurt said holding out an arm.

"Okay." Blaine replied, looping his own arm through Kurt's.

 

They walked slowly, talking quietly all the way except for when Blaine would pause every few feet to duck his head and inhale the scent of the peonies still clutched to his chest. Soon, they reached the apartment and Blaine stood on the step outside the building, biting his lip and holding his peonies so tightly Kurt feared their stems would snap. Blaine took one of Kurt's hands in his, eyes bright and cheeks tinted a dusky pink. "Would you like to come up for that coffee?" He asked shyly. Kurt tilted his head up and kissed him gently, palm cupping his jaw as their lips slid together, cold and a little dry but perfect. He pulled back and watched enraptured as Blaine smiled, eyes blinking open again. "I'd love to." He whispered, breaking out into a grin as Blaine tugged him inside.

 

_‘And yet we're not too young to know_

_This love will last though years may go,_

_And then some day they may recall_

_We were not too young at all.'_


	12. Chapter 12

Blaine decided against offering Kurt a glass of red wine as they settled themselves on the new couch in Blaine's living room, and instead they both nursed cups of coffee and split half of the cheesecake Maggie had made Blaine to congratulate him after his exhibition. They curled up at opposite ends of the couch, Blaine sinking into the corner with an exhausted sigh, hugging a throw pillow as he sipped at his coffee.

 

"I want to thank you," Kurt began after a few moments of thoughtful silence, "for giving me another chance, and for being so gracious about, well everything really." Blaine tipped his head to the side and smiled warmly. He was tired and his muscles ached but despite the double meaning, he was glad he had asked Kurt to come in for coffee. He desperately wanted to keep talking to him for as long as possible. He had spent months missing just that, although back then they only ever really talked late at night, sweaty and tangled between the sheets as the moon looked on and the sounds of the city kept their whispered secrets.

 

"There's no need." Blaine whispered quietly, touching Kurt's thigh fleetingly, yet the touch of skin to denim sent shockwaves through his sluggish nerves. "Thank you for apologising and making amends. I'm glad we both agreed that we'd do things properly this time around, even just as friends." Blaine took a tentative sip from his mug, using it as an excuse to look away from Kurt's hopeful gaze. "About that," Kurt began, voice wobbling slightly with nerves "I was wondering if maybe you'd like to change that sometime, in the near future, I-I mean you don't have to say yes and hey no hard feelings if you don't or if you think it's too soon or-"

"Yes."

"-because I know that I've messed up but I really like you always have in fact and I-"

"God damn it Kurt. Yes!"

"What? Sorry, yes to what?"

"Just- what are you trying to ask me Kurt?"

"Blaine Anderson, will you please go on a date with me?"

"Yes!" Blaine shouted, hitting Kurt over the head with the throw pillow. "Yes, of course I will now shut up and drink your coffee."

 

They were silent for a while, grinning into their mugs as they settled a little closer to each other on the couch. "Blaine?" Kurt broke the silence, grinning with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Mmm" Blaine replied grinning just as wide.

"Why did the landlord think you were a hooker?"

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

"...and I don't think you realised how loud you said it because pretty much everyone on the same floor as us apparently heard you, I was getting weird looks for months! There was a building meeting when the new landlady took over and Mister Richards, you know the cranky old guy at number 7?"

"Yeah..."

"Well when we were asked if we had anything to discuss he just stood up and started yelling about how he didn't want ‘my type' living in the same building as him-"

"Oh my God!"

"Yeah so naturally, The Dennisons from two doors down stood up and started shouting. Tilly, the sweetheart looked like she was gonna punch him until the guy just stood back up and yelled it wasn't because I was gay but because I was a hooker."

"Fuck what happened then?"

"The room just went silent and, just  _god_  I was  _so_  embarrassed I just stood up and said that they'd heard wrong and that my roommate and I had just come home from a night out, that I was just an art student that had a job at a bookstore on third."

 

"It's not that I have anything against sex workers it makes them no less of a person, it's just their job. I'm just not a hooker." Blaine said musingly. There was a long pause before a smirk pulled at Kurt's lips. "You would make an excellent hooker though."

"What?! Oh my God, Kurt!"

"You have such a filthy mouth, guys would pay thousands..."

"I d- I do not Kurt Hummel oh my fucking-"

"Yes you do, remember that one time after Satin you were a man  _possessed_ -"

"Shut up! That was different-"

"No God you were just taking it, babbling and whining like a fucking porn star."

"I was not."

"You were too."

"I-"

" ‘Oh God baby harder. That's it fuck me, fuck me. Fuck me with that big dick fuck _fuck_.' "

 

"I hate you and I should never have told you that story."

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

7PM quickly turned to midnight and midnight swiftly became 2AM before Blaine even considered going to bed. Kurt had fallen asleep not long ago and Blaine had taken the opportunity to just sit quietly, somewhat creepily sketching the fan of his lashes against his sleep pink cheeks, the broadness of his chest, rising and falling with every deep and even breath. It was... weird Blaine knew but couldn't resist, didn't know when he'd have another opportunity to immortalise this beautiful man in paper and charcoal.

 

Blaine could never bring himself to ask Kurt to model for him. It always seemed too intimate, too revealing of both model and artist. He'd worked with many a model before, some in various states of undress but nothing felt more intimate or intimidating than having Kurt right in front of him for hours at a time, so far yet so close, long enough for him to capture almost every detail of him, from the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, to the elegant length of his fingers, calloused at the tip from incessant use of his typewriter.

 

Soon 2AM became 3AM and Blaine's eyes kept slipping shut, his mouth gaping wide with a yawn. It was much too late to send Kurt home and he momentarily felt guilty for not having woken him earlier but something coiled quietly in his stomach at the sight of Kurt's face pushed against the soft fabric of his couch, arms curled protectively around a throw pillow Blaine had thrown at him earlier in a fit of indignation. Moving as quietly as he could Blaine tugged off the blanket he had wrapped around himself and draped it carefully over Kurt's sleeping form. Tentatively he brushed his hair back off of his forehead, smiling as he mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, and bent down to kiss him softly on the cheek.

 

There was something about Kurt that was different, something that made him seem brighter, his smile bigger and his body less tense. Blaine settled himself in bed, staring across the room at the wall that held various sketches and doodles. It was hard to convince himself to sleep alone, when the warmth of Kurt's body and the security of his arms were only several feet away. He thought of padding back down the hall to the lounge and curling up with Kurt on the couch but as soon as he'd flipped the comforter back, his bare feet dangling inches from the hardwood floor he'd thought better of it. Soon, he thought. Soon they could go back to how it was before, before Kurt ran scared to Chicago.

 

In that moment Blaine knew that it would be better,  _they_  would be better. He'd come back, he wasn't scared anymore, or at least about them, about what they had. He knew now that all those months, the late nights and the early mornings breathing in the New York City air, that was  _something_.

 

Blaine had spent months trying to convince himself that it was nothing, that his big city romance was a figment of his imagination, but Kurt had come back and despite his mistakes shown him, unmistakably that it was real. So Blaine thought it better to wait just that little bit longer because they weren't there yet, weren't quite to the point where they could fall together again and this time never stop. He switched off his lamp and waited for sleep to take him, wondering with a sweet smile if Kurt would still be there in the morning.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

_When I fall in love_

 

Blaine woke early the next morning to the sounds of Nat King Cole and the quiet crackle of the needle on his record player.

 

_It will be forever_

 

He stumbled to the bathroom, grinning like a fool as he brushed his teeth and showered as quickly as possible. Above the sound of the water he strained to hear a voice, high and powerful, blending in with Cole's beautifully, a voice so wonderful and obviously Kurt's.  Kurt was still there, singing like the music was his soul and Blaine felt like melting into the bathroom floor as he stood by the sink, shrouded in steam. He wiped the condensation from the mirror and stared at himself in the glass, eyes bright, wide and eager, boyish as he grinned and hummed along to the song trickling through the walls.

 

He dressed quickly, tripping over trying to pull his jeans on and almost poking himself in the eye as he shoved his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. Trying to compose himself he took a deep breath before opening the door and stepped out into the hall, but what he saw when he entered the lounge took his breath away.

 

_In a restless world like this is._

 

Kurt was singing his heart out, shimmying his hips slowly as he stood barefoot and bare-chested in the kitchen as he cooked.

 

_Love is over before it's begun._

 

" _And too many moonlight kisses, seem to cool in the warmth of the sun._ " Blaine sang causing Kurt to jump and the pan to jolt dangerously on the stove.

"Blaine! Jesus Christ you scared the shit out of me!" Kurt said laughing as he plated up a portion of eggs. Blaine sat at the little island in the middle of his tiny kitchen, digging into the food set before him and trying not to smile with food in his mouth. "You have an amazing voice by the way," Blaine complimented after taking a sip of coffee "such a great way to wake up, Nat King Cole featuring Kurt Elizabeth Hummel."

"I woke you up? I'm sorry I just woke up and it was sunny and I remembered you'd agreed to go on a date with me last night and I guess I just got a little carried away." Kurt blushed and started clearing up the kitchen.

  
Blaine watched amused as Kurt began to bustle around, washing the dishes and singing under his breath. "Do you have a lot to do today?" Blaine asked, trying to suppress his laughter. "Um yeah," Kurt replied, glancing up at the clock, "I have meetings all day but this um, this evening I'm free."

"Oh really?" Blaine said teasingly.

"Yeah and I um if you're not busy tonight I'd like to take you out somewhere. I think I found somewhere that you'd really like..." Kurt trailed off looking unsure. Blaine stood up, wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging him tight as Kurt's arms came to rest around his waist.

 

_When I give my heart, it will be completely_

 

"Of course," Blaine whispered against Kurt's ear and delighted in the shiver he felt running through his body "I can't wait."

 

_Or I'll never give my heart_

 

"You'll love it. I've got it all planned out."

"I'm sure I will baby."

"Get ready to be wooed Blaine Anderson; by the end of the evening you'll be falling in love."

"Oh sweetie, we'll see, we'll see."

 

_And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too_

_Is when I'll fall in love with you._

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

_Dress how you feel when you listen to all those old records. Dress how you feel when you're taking sips from that glass of scotch, when you're smoking that cigarette. Dress how you feel when you do what you love._

 

Kurt had been incredibly vague about where exactly he was taking Blaine for their date. Despite Blaine's pleading and pouting he didn't give in, just continued to smile secretly, thrilling at the fact he was so desperate to know. The only information he thought it would be important to provide Blaine with was the dress code, but Blaine was at a loss as to how glasses of scotch, old records and cigarettes could be interpreted via fashion.

 

There was a theme throughout however that he recognised, and praying that he wouldn't be heinously overdressed, he dug out his favourite suit from the back of his closet. It was a light grey, three piece suit in subtle close pinstripes. The spring evening made it so that he wouldn't need the blazer, leaving him dressed simply yet smartly in the slacks; a white shirt rolled up to the elbows; a double breasted waistcoat and matte silver bowtie. For the first time since high school he'd slicked his hair back with gel, not so much that it was plastered to his head but enough so that his curls weren't prominently visible.

 

He looked himself over in the mirror and smiled. Before, his eyes were shadowed by his curls, too short to flop into his eyes but quite long enough to leave him having to brush them back whereas now, as he looked at his reflection he was struck by just how much they stood out, wide and excited and  _happy_.

 

Blaine had a few guesses as to where they were going. Kurt had always paid far too much attention to Maggie's bimonthly spiels about how much of an old soul he was. Kurt's penchant for his lips was why he so often found him staring when he was at the fire escape, a cigarette wedged between his middle and forefinger. Kurt's own love of music was why he watched him dance. His love for  _Blaine_  was why sometimes, in the early hours of the morning the  _tap tap tap_  of his typewriter would halt, if but for a moment, and the old wooden chair he sat upon would creak as he turned, turned to watch Blaine paint or sketch, turned to watch him lose himself and find himself all at once in his passion.

 

Kurt's knock on the door was prompt and the sight of him when Blaine opened the door took his breath away. He was wearing a suit similar to Blaine's but in black. He too wasn't wearing a blazer but his waistcoat was single breasted, a red pocket square positioned neatly against his chest.

 

"Blaine you look beautiful." Kurt said breathlessly and Blaine blushed, ducking his head as his hands brushed nervously across the material of the waistcoat that clung tightly to his torso. "Thank you," Blaine replied quietly, "I've had this for quite a while; it was a gift from James, Maggie's husband."

"I presume he didn't pick it out for you?"

"Um no I picked it out. A sort of forced birthday present, he wanted me to have it, said that it was a suit of his youth and he was never likely to wear it again. ‘Besides' he'd said, ‘a good looking gentleman like yourself needs a good suit.'" Blaine recalled, lowering his voice in a booming and hearty imitation of James', causing them both to fall into fits of laughter.

 

He had seen the suit and instantly fallen in love with it. When Maggie and James had both started making a fuss about his birthday he had seen fit to protest every extravagant cake and every promise of gifts in the form of expensive art supplies. Despite all his attempts, the stubborn sweethearts as Blaine had come to call them, had shut the shop and strung banners and balloons about the place, a comical sight to behold between the mahogany furniture and grandiose and dusty shelves. He had felt the tears begin to fall almost as soon as he had stepped inside the shop, but after opening his first present he was practically inconsolable. It was the most beautiful leather bound sketchbook he had ever seen, silver embossed with the letters of his name. Never before had he been on the receiving end of such kindness, moved to tears because two virtual strangers, who happened to be his bosses nonetheless, decided to make him one of their own, part of a family at last.

 

Without their strength Blaine doubted he would've been able to forgive, to take the arm of a beautiful man and step out into the city air, drowning in happiness and feeling the warmth of someone he loved and who loved him.


	13. Chapter 13

Kurt tugged Blaine through the city by the hand, walking them through subway stations and underneath neon lights until they finally came to a stop, hands clasped between them and matching grins on their faces. "Close your eyes." Kurt said hurriedly, bouncing on his toes.

"What?"

"Close your eyes, this is a surprise Blaine!" He pouted as if Blaine's behaviour was ruining his fun.

"This is New York on a Saturday night I could  _die_." Blaine dead panned yet his smile betrayed him, giddy with excitement and nerves and  _this man_.

"You won't die I promise, it's just down this street."

"Ugh fine" Blaine conceded, closing his eyes and feeling Kurt's arm curl protectively around his waist as they started to walk.

 

They walked slowly, giving the people scuttling by a wide berth as they shuffled along the sidewalk, laughing and clutching at each other. Blaine let out a squeaky giggle as Kurt pulled him into a sharp turn, they stopped abruptly and Kurt wrapped both arms around Blaine's waist as he stumbled.

 

In an attempt to figure out where they were without disobeying Kurt's instruction to keep his eyes closed, Blaine listened intently, catching the faint sound of trumpets beneath the rumble of traffic. "Kurt, where the hell are we?" Blaine said nervously as a group to their left burst out into boisterous laughter.

"Okay okay!" Kurt chuckled, hooking his chin over Blaine's shoulder and kissing his cheek "Before I tell you to open your eyes I just want you to know that we don't even have to stay, I think you'll like where we are but I wasn't sure if it was really your thing."

"I'm sure I'll love it," Blaine said impatiently, "but can I please open my eyes now?"

 

"Okay open!"

Blaine blinked his eyes open and gasped. In front of them was a beautiful old building, tucked between other, more nondescript buildings that lined the alleyway Kurt had brought them to. The building was made of old red brick and above the large black doors hung an elegant sign bearing the name of the establishment: Lucille's Jazz & Blues Club.

 

"Kurt..." Blaine mumbled breathlessly.

"I know the owner of the place and I asked if I could bring you along tonight seeing as you're not 21 yet. Lucky for us Lucille's isn't exactly the most above board place in the city and Santana said you could get in if you were hot."

"She-"

"Oh she's gay. She just likes making people uncomfortable, she's always been that way, and I've known her since high school." Kurt added, whilst guiding a wide eyed Blaine toward the doors.

 

Kurt gave his name to the man on the door, and he smiled as he opened the doors for them, eyes shining with mirth as Blaine meandered into the velvet lined corridor ahead, smiling broadly and breathing in the scent of cigarette smoke, whiskey and sweat. Kurt couldn't stop staring. He'd never seen Blaine so entranced, taking in his surroundings with unbridled excitement and awe, the likes of which he had never seen before. Stepping into Lucille's was like stepping back in time to the 1920s and Blaine looked as if he belonged there, amongst the plush booths, the dim lights and cigar smoking gentlemen.

 

Blaine slipped away from him, hips swaying deliciously to the seductive sound of soft drums and sweeping piano melodies. He took a seat at the bar, glancing almost longingly at the stage and the grand piano just to the left of it. His eyes shone in the dim light of the bar and he looked stunning. Everything about him in that moment screamed perfect. This was Blaine Anderson, the beautiful, young starving artist that could have fallen straight from the Jazz Age and into modern day New York City. Kurt had never been more certain that he was falling in love with him, if he hadn't already.

 

"Kurt! Kurt!" Blaine called, grinning from ear to ear as the bar staff laughed good-naturedly. He looked like a child who had just discovered its new favourite toy. "This place is amazing!"

"Why thank you strangely hot man child." A voice drawled from behind him.

"Santana, it's good to see you." Kurt said smiling as he hugged her tightly.

"Yeah long time no see Hummel; I hope you haven't been doling out your talent to any of those jazz clubs out in Chicago." She quipped, tugging on a wisp of her silky black hair as she looked each of them up and down in turn. "Talent?" Blaine asked bemusedly, ignoring the mention of Chicago.

 

"That's right hottie from the Shire; Hummel here was the joint's nightly entertainer back when he was a struggling writer."

"I'm still struggling Satan." He glared at her but remembered the time fondly.

"Oh yeah right Mister 'New York Times Best Selling Author.'" She snapped back.

"I didn't know you sang professionally?" Blaine wondered, looking up at Kurt from his place on the bar stool and slipping his hand into his.

"It was hardly professional," Kurt smiled squeezing Blaine's hand as he regaled him with the story, "I was just helping a friend out with her new business, she needed entertainment and I needed money and to get a book published. It worked."

"Best damn singer we've ever had, but tell me Blaine -  _sweetheart_  - do you sing?"

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

"This was part of the deal wasn't it? Getting me in, she didn't just want me to be hot she wanted me to sing?" Blaine said incredulously as he stood with Kurt in the wings of the stage. "Okay, yes I may have mentioned that you have an incredible voice and you might be willing to share it with the patrons but you don't have to, we can leave remember, go back to the apartment or I could just walk you home. There's no pressure Bl-"

"No."

"No what?"

"No I'll do it. She clearly thinks I'll clam up because I'm young or whatever. I've been listening, singing, playing this stuff since I was six I can do it."

"Like hell you can baby." Kurt cheered, kissing him on the cheek.

"How long until she..."

"About half an hour maybe. We have time. Do you want to maybe find a table?" Kurt asked, leading Blaine from backstage by the hand.

"No, I think I'll - go talk to the band."

 

Kurt laughed, smiling brightly as Blaine threw his arms around him. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and kissed the top of his curly head before pulling away. Blaine looked up at him, expression unreadable until he brought their lips together for a hard, deep kiss, sending shockwaves coursing through Kurt's body all the way down to his curling toes. "Thank you." He whispered as he pulled back, face etched with gratitude for much more than just bringing him out to a Jazz club. He smiled sweetly before turning and making his way toward the band.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

"Whiskey for your baby?" Santana smirked as she followed Kurt from the bar, a drink in each of his hands.

"I've gotta do something while he makes friends with the band." Kurt said distractedly as he wove between the tables. "Aww is Kurtie feeling neglected?" She muttered as Kurt watched Blaine laugh and talk animatedly with a cellist. "No but oh my god he's so fucking charismatic. I've yet to meet anyone who dislikes him or a soul that can keep their eyes off him, him and that god damn smile and his whiskey eyes, Jesus I am so-"

"Fucked?" Santana supplied with a soft smile, taking the drink she knew was for Kurt and pushing him forward.

"I err, yeah that pretty much sums it up." With a deep breath and a smile, he slipped away from her.

 

Blaine was sitting at the piano when Kurt found him, almost hidden amongst sheet music, a discarded trombone, several ashtrays and empty glasses and a gaggle of rather loose-looking band members. They wolf whistled as he approached and despite his discomfort he smiled at the beautiful shade of red Blaine had turned whilst he was playing. Kurt slid by accepting pats on the shoulder and broad knowing grins until he slipped onto the stool next to Blaine, watching him intently.

 

Watching Blaine play was entrancing and Kurt couldn't look away from his fingers gliding effortlessly across the keys. He was lost in the music, like every chord was a new path to travel and every note a revelation. He brought his song to a close and leant in for a kiss, grinning as the band wolf whistled again. "Hey," Kurt said softly after they'd parted, "I brought you a drink."

"Why mister Hummel," Blaine exclaimed in mock indignation, taking the glass from him and drinking a generous mouthful "plying someone underage with alcohol, how awful of you." Kurt laughed heartily, leaning against him with an arm wrapped around his waist. "Says the boy who I'm betting has a cigarette burning in that ashtray over there and already managed to sneak his way in here."

"Hey, you brought me here!" Blaine exclaimed once more. It was then that Kurt realised that perhaps he wasn't the only one that had been plying him with alcohol. He looked at Blaine's wild curls, flushed face and overall slightly dishevelled appearance and was struck by how gorgeous he looked, sexy with his bowtie and collar undone, his shirtsleeves rolled up and sweat dampening his neck and collarbone.

 

Blaine shrugged and reached across the piano to put down his glass and pick up his fading cigarette, bringing it to his lips before exhaling smoke up into the already stifling air. He looked across at Kurt and hummed thoughtfully. "You've got that look again."

"Look? What look?"

"The look that says you wanna fuck me." Blaine stated matter-of-factly. Kurt began to stammer.

"Blaine, it's time." Santana called and Blaine sauntered away tossing a flirtatious wink and a smile over his shoulder as he made his way to the stage, leaving Kurt strangely speechless and trembling in his wake.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Kurt was ushered to a table in the front row as the lights began to dim. Santana slid into the chair next to him, a devilish grin suggesting she knew something Kurt and the rest of the club didn't. A familiar baseline started up and a spotlight hit the stage just as Blaine, a debauched vision in vintage couture began to snap his fingers. Instantly, the club could recognise what song Blaine was going to sing and the raw sensuality of the uncomplicated rhythm combined with his smokey, sultry tenor struck him to the core, making him shiver and his eyes blow wide in the secretive darkness of the audience.

 

Blaine's eyes smouldered in the golden stage lights, burning and the colour of bourbon as he sang. His eyes met Kurt's as his hand slid suggestively down the microphone stand, caressing the metal as the song continued. He'd never seen him look so powerful, so confident. He had always known that Blaine was unbelievably comfortable in his body, that he was aware of his desires and well acquainted with sex and his sexuality. But Kurt  _wanted_  him. Craved him, under him, over him, he was desperate for him in any way possible. It was familiar but strange at the same time. He'd always wanted him, but Blaine seemed so untouchable now like he'd grown into a sensual fantasy just out of reach, he kept slipping from his grasp like waking from a dream.

 

That want burned, searing with an undercurrent of dangerous jealousy as Blaine tugged on the tie of a hungry looking blonde in a corner booth and blew a busty brunette a kiss from where he'd draped himself across the bar. He lifted himself up and began to saunter back toward the stage, but just before reaching the stairs he turned slowly, prowling straight toward Kurt who couldn't look away.

 

"What a lovely way to burn" he sang, voice rough as he dropped gracefully into his lap. "What... A lovely way to burn" he whispered huskily. Santana barely had time to catch the microphone as Blaine dropped it to tangle his hands in Kurt's hair and bring him close for a slow, filthy kiss.

 

"Hey baby," Blaine crooned, grinning and playing with a stray tendril of Kurt's hair "so what do you think? Was I a hit?"

"I think," Kurt began, unable to look away from the man in his lap, his eyes shining with excitement, face flushed and radiant, "you're going to be the death of me Blaine Anderson, especially after tonight."

"Oh I hope not," he replied, "otherwise who will take me home?"

"Are you..."

"One more song and then- one more song and we'll go home." Blaine said earnestly, all bravado lost suddenly to the look of desperation in Kurt's eyes as he held him tight "I know what you- it's okay I promise just one more song."

 

He made his way slowly toward the stage, taking the microphone back from Santana with a smile. Standing in the spotlight he took a deep breath, eyes closed against the glare. A smile quirked the corner of his lips as the audience went silent and he finally opened his eyes again, focussing on Kurt and Kurt alone.

 

_"At last..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs in this chapter are Fever by Peggy Lee and At Last by Etta James.


	14. Chapter 14

"When I fall in love..."

"Alright superstar let's go home."

"It'll be completely - wha? No Jimmy said one more song. One more song Kurt pleeeease, pretty please." Blaine whined, and Kurt almost caved as Blaine looked up at him through fluttering eyelashes, big brown eyes wide and begging. "No sweetheart come on I think we've done enough singing for one night."

 

Kurt had to admit that when he had imagined their first date it had ended very differently to how it did in actuality. He never would've thought Blaine would've looked so beautiful and passionate under the stage lights. He never would've thought that Blaine would get drunk and close the evening with a bizarre but surprisingly good jazz rendition of Britney Spears' Toxic that he'd arranged in high school and taught to Lucille's band on one of his 'breaks'.

 

So the end of the evening saw Kurt tugging a smiling, singing and all round silly Blaine Anderson out of a club he wasn't even legally allowed to have been in as he flopped around in his arms like an inebriated toddler who apparently had a remarkable grasp of the English language and could manage to be bafflingly verbose even under the influence of innumerable glasses of whiskey, plus a little of Kurt's gin and tonic.

 

"Ooookay," Blaine whined a little dejectedly, "I've had fun tonight Kurt thank you."

"Oh no thank  _you_  for agreeing to come out with me" Blaine went unexpectedly silent at that, eyes fixed to the ground as they started walking, hands somehow clasped together. He didn't even notice when they'd started holding hands. Kurt being a little drunk himself stared down at their entwined fingers in mystification.

 

"I was so nervous about tonight," Blaine began quietly, all silliness suddenly replaced with sobriety and Blaine's wise beyond his years mind "I know you said this was a date but sometimes it's still hard to believe that you want me as- as more." Kurt's heart pounded against his rib cage, holding his breath in anticipation as Blaine stuttered on, words tripping on his tangled tongue. "Wh-what happened was confusing you know? You had me falling for you, a-and then you, you left. I knew it was coming but still I hoped. There are no fairy tales, no ‘prince charmings' and no ‘damsels in distress'. There is no Neverland. Only lost boys and longing for something you have, for now, but can't trust will be there forever. And I'm more than a little drunk. I'm more than a little out of my depth here, but I want this to be something substantial, something more than cut threads and fractured feelings and a broken heart. I've had one too many of those, broken hearts. I'm melodramatic and a sap and an idiot and I'm sorry."

 

"You don't have to be sorry Blaine. I can't - I won't make any promises. I want you Blaine and I-I've I'm not good at this but I'm trying please believe me when I say I want you, I want this." Kurt shook their joined hands and held on just a little tighter. What he'd said wasn't enough he knew, but Blaine, beautiful, strong Blaine just smiled, eyes watery as he stared at his moving feet waiting for the moment the absence of those three little words wouldn't hurt so much.

 

Blaine held his hand tight, stumbling now and again on the cracks in the sidewalk. Kurt walked beside him, facing straight ahead as Blaine meandered along to the right of him. He hated to appear so stoic, so emotionless but that had always been his problem, never knowing how to let his guard down completely. Sometimes it takes more to say what one means in person than to write an entire novel practically inspired by the individual that holds ones heart. Kurt had waxed poetic about love and fate and destiny and once upon a time he'd believed in it, but there comes a time when even the illusionist becomes disillusioned. The man who spun tales with words like golden thread, flowing from his mind to fingertip, suddenly found that magic spinning wheel grinding to a halt, a pricked finger laying waste to hopes of romance.

 

The streets were quieter as they walked back to Blaine's apartment, and Kurt despised their stillness. New York still bustled with life, city streets pounding with the resonant sound of people living their lives, pounding the concrete with footprints they won't leave behind. Faceless people seemed to pass in slow motion as they moved forward, all because Blaine was suddenly so quiet, blinking furiously at the ground in an attempt to clear his cloudy vision. Only when they had reached his building and climbed the stairs to his floor did Kurt realise that he'd been blinking back tears.

 

Just outside his apartment door Blaine turned and with a wet chuckle muttered "Why is it that after nights like this I always end up fucking crying?" He fished out his keys and his hands shook as he unlocked the door. "I must be doing something wrong." Kurt replied seriously and Blaine turned to face him with an incredulous laugh.

"You're not- you're not doing anything  _wrong_  y-you're trying and I really appreciate that it's just-" he dropped his gazed to the floor, "it's hard to watch you leave on nights like this." Blaine's fingers bore down into the door frame, gripping the fracturing wood with hands with whitened knuckles. The unspoken ‘without knowing whether you'll come back' hung heavy in the air, unsaid but it didn't need to be. Blaine's hidden insecurity secreted away in an unuttered sentence.

 

"I don't have to leave." Kurt said earnestly

"You do."

"Why?"

"Because you know-" Blaine said loudly, cutting himself off to speak softly in the darkened hallway "because you know what'll happen if I let you stay and we're- it's too soon."

"We don't have to do anything I just-"

"What Kurt?"

"I just don't want to leave you tonight."

 

Without saying a word Blaine stepped aside, opening the door wide so that Kurt could enter. "I'll just take the couch or the spare bedroom um-"

"No you can - there is no spare bedroom anymore I had it converted it's the studio now. You can sleep with- in my bed, with me, if you want to." Blaine mumbled, dropping his keys into the bowl by the door and brushing his hand against the wall to guide him through the dark apartment and keep him steady in his drunken state. "Yes, um that's fine, if you're sure that is?"

 

Blaine didn't respond just carried on through the apartment until he reached his bedroom. He wobbled towards his dresser pulling out clothes for himself and Kurt to sleep in. Silently he placed those he'd picked for Kurt on the bed and took his own with him into the bathroom.

 

Sighing Kurt dressed and sat waiting for Blaine at the edge of his bed. He heard the light click off and watched as Blaine shuffled out into the bedroom, his arms folded across his bare chest, and navy silk pajama pants hanging low on his hips, too long for him. Kurt sat dumbly on the bed watching a shy and nervous looking Blaine curl his toes in the bottom of his pants. "God Blaine please come here and let me hold you before I go insane." He breathed out and Blaine stumbled to him, still dizzy with the remnants of alcohol. He lowered himself into Kurt's lap with a smile, his arms draped over his shoulders gracefully as Kurt held his waist.

 

"I missed you so much beautiful do you know that?" Kurt said hoarsely, throat thick with oncoming tears. Blaine nodded, his thumbs brushing across Kurt's cheeks. "I hate that this feels different now sometimes, I hate that it's this way because of me. But I know it's gonnna get better I just need time."

"You need time?" Blaine asked, panic flaring in him as he spoke.

"Not like that! I just need time to be sure."

"You're not sure?" Blaine said incredulously. "You said..."

"I know what I said..."

"Then stop leading me on!" Blaine yelled. "Stop taking me on dates and telling me how beautiful I am and suggesting that you're falling - you can't just say things in the hopes that they'll placate me until you make up your fucking mind Kurt!"

"Then what am I supposed to do? What do you want from me Blaine?" Kurt shouted back, frustrated and hurt.

"I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME BACK!"

 

Blaine immediately clasped his hands over his mouth, stumbling backwards as the tears began to fall anew. "I can't make you love me Kurt," Blaine whispered brokenly, "and maybe you never will, but if you want me don't you dare pretend that you do."

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Blaine insisted that Kurt sleep on his couch that night because it was late and he was still too drunk and tired for Blaine to be sure he could make it back to his hotel safely. He set him up with blankets and pillows, water and aspirin and left with a quick goodnight, adding in a monotonous voice that they should talk again in the morning.

 

When he awoke the next morning and shuffled into the living room he found the blankets neatly folded, the glass drained and the aspirin gone. Kurt, evidently, was gone too. Blaine's eyes passed over the scene in front of him dazedly. He wasn't surprised; Kurt had a history of running from him. He wondered absently if he'd call him. He wanted time, so Blaine decided to give it to him. Kurt knew how he felt; there was nothing he could do. Sure he was angry and hurt but he was also tired. Maybe he shouldn't have pushed, maybe he should have just waited in silence until Kurt had figured it all it.

 

He carried on. He made his morning cup of coffee. He showered, shaved, dressed. He picked up his keys and left for work, not bothering to glance back at the pile of blankets still left neatly stacked on the couch.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

"Blaine dear could you get that reservation down from the top shelf in the history section for Miss Carmetta please?" Maggie called from the shelves. The phone rang and Blaine answered it distractedly. "Hello Atkinson Books, Blaine speaking how may I help you?"

"Blaine? Hi I-"  
"Kurt what are you doing calling the shop?"

"I tried to call your cell but you didn't pick up so I thought I'd try you there." Kurt said quickly, voice pitching higher with nerves.

"Of course I didn't pick up I'm working or did you forget I can actually function without you?"

"Blaine please-"

"Don't tell me you want to talk now. If you wanted to talk you would have stayed." There was a long pause and Blaine contemplated just hanging up.

 

"Is that what this is about? You're upset because I had to leave this morning?"

"No I'm upset you didn't keep your word."

"Blaine I didn't promise..."  
"Oh fuck off Kurt. You and your talk of promises. Probably wouldn't mean shit even if you did have the balls to commit to one." Blaine said bitingly.  
"Oh you wanna talk about commitment now? Jesus Christ Blaine you're a fucking walking cliché." Kurt snarled back.

"Oh and the lost and sad writer act isn't? Surely the older gentlemen looking to get lucky with the young college student couldn't possibly fit the same mould?"

"Don't you dare pretend like you were taken advantage of Blaine. You knew what you were doing, you're an adult for God's sake stop acting like such a-"

"Go on," Blaine goaded, sniffling into the receiver "say it!"

"Like a child!" Kurt shouted and automatically regretted it, before he could try and apologise Blaine was talking again.

"I'm done." He said clearly crying. "That's it I can't do this anymore." Kurt opened his mouth to protest, to beg him not to give up on them but was cut off. Panic started to rise up his throat like bile.

 

A loud crash echoed through the speaker followed by a scream and the sound of Blaine's panicked voice before the line went dead.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence, brief sexual harassment.

After the terror came regret, but Blaine didn't have the time to curse himself for answering the phone instead of going to the history section to pick up the reservation. The store was eerily quiet, the only sounds coming from the passing traffic outside and the quaking of the floorboards as someone rounded the shelves. Blaine stood frozen as two masked figures strode across the room towards the doors and windows, flipping the sign to closed and drawing the blinds they barely spared him a glance.

 

Heart pounding with a harsh rush of adrenaline he made a break for the shelves desperate to find Maggie, but before he'd even managed to clamber out from behind the desk one of them pulled him back. "Let me go! Maggie! Maggie!" He struggled in their grasp, eventually he managed to reach an arm around his assailant's neck to wrench the mask off. The man grunted and growled in frustration as Blaine's blunt fingernails scraped at the exposed skin of his forearms and he twisted in his grasp. The man cried out as Blaine's elbow connected with his jaw and he broke free, stumbling into a bookshelf and almost knocking it over with the force of his fall. "Maggie!" He shouted but she didn't reply, all he could hear were Miss Carmetta's sobs and frightened mutterings above the angry advances of the two men.

 

Screaming, he was thrown back into the books, face blooming with pain as a fist ploughed into his cheekbone. With a dull aching thud his head hit the unforgiving wood. Vision blurring he squinted, trying to make out the faces of the shifting shapes in front of him. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the blackness, and the ringing in his ears but it was futile. His eyes closed and his legs betrayed him, letting him fall to the floor in an unconscious heap.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

There was a pounding in his head that far surpassed any hangover he had ever experienced. Muffled sounds and blurred figures clouded his senses until he could decipher his surroundings. "Blaine? Blaine? Oh god please don't be dead please." He heard Miss Carmetta's voice plead over and over. He tried to sit upright and squinted his eyes shut as the world around him began to tilt. Upon opening his eyes again his vision was clearer.

 

"M'not dead m'fine Miss Carmetta please." He said gently, swallowing back his panic as he surveyed the room. Scrambling against the hardwood floor he attempted to stand but found he was bound to one of the heavy armchairs at the front of the shop, they both were, with the exception of Maggie. Maggie who was lying limp on the ground, body twisted strangely and her chest rising and falling sharply with ragged breaths. Tears threatened to fall at the discovery she was still alive, relief calming every thought if but for a moment no longer than a fraction of a second.

 

A loud crash sounded from the shelves and Blaine whipped his head around just quick enough to see the whole stack fall as the two men laughed. They strode down the aisles, ripping books off the shelves, tearing out pages and breaking bindings, beautiful books old and new, first editions and reprints being destroyed for what seemed to be no reason.

 

Blaine's skin burned hot with rage, the tears that had once again clouded his vision as he watched as his best friends' life work was mindlessly destroyed. "Stop for fuck sake! Stop! We'll give you whatever you want." At the sound of Blaine's cracked and hate riddled voice the two strode back into the room.

"Oh look," a man with greasy black hair and yellowing teeth snarled "pretty boy's wide awake." He laughed threateningly but his companion didn't join him, simply crouched in front of Blaine and stared, piercing blue eyes boring into his. Unlike his partner he was classically handsome, in his early forties and greying with dark blonde hair. He reached out a hand, the fingertips of which just barely brushed Blaine's cheek before he jerked away, wrists burnt by the rope binding them.

 

"Don't fucking touch me!" He shouted, glaring at the man and breathing heavily. The man smiled, blue eyes kind and unnerving.

"Hush precious," he said, voice sonorous and soft, "there's simply something somewhere in this quaint little store that I want."

"You can take anything as long as you let us go." Blaine replied quickly "What is it you want?"

"You mean besides you beautiful?" The man smiled and Blaine reeled back in disgust. "James, was a dear friend of my uncle's and stole something very valuable from him a long time ago. You see they were old friends, and James visited us often in England. He did some business with a well known Irish family here in New York but I - want - it - back. It's a diamond a very old, very special diamond an-"

"I know where it is." Blaine interrupted "untie me and I'll show you."

"Do we look like idiots to you?" The man with the vile teeth asked scathingly but Blaine continued to direct his words to the blue eyed man in front of him. "Untie me and you can have it, you can leave without a scene," Blaine added "just let the girls go."

"Blaine..." Miss Carmetta began quietly but Blaine looked at her sharply.

 

"Fine, precious. Show me, now."

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

As soon as they untied him Blaine stumbled up from where he was restrained and headed straight for the room in the back where the rare books were kept. They didn't have many but there was one in particular that he knew bore the diamond the men were searching for. As he lifted the lid of its case he handled it carefully, grimacing as the wicked looking man tore it away from him and took out a pocket knife. "Please don't cut the stone out here," he begged "just take it with you, it'll be easier to hide."

"And you don't want one of your precious books to be destroyed in front of you, how sweet." The man with the blue eyes said, snaking a hand into Blaine's hair and tugging. "You know you really are quite charming for such a young man. Classically beautiful. Educated, elegant. What a treasure, what a find, what a-"

 

The man was cut off from his saccharine tirade when Blaine's phone began to ring. He reached into his pocket and glanced at the caller ID. It was Kurt. "Oh hello, is this your lover precious?" Blaine bit his lip and looked steadfastly at the ceiling, cursing the hot tears that continued to roll down his grazed cheeks. "Aww I can see he is, and handsome too, a little older maybe, just your type." He whispered hotly, nose skimming his neck and Blaine stayed silent against the ever tightening grip on his hair. "Well I can tell you are ever the gentleman precious so this is where our romance dies."

 

In a movement so sharp the man smashed Blaine's head against the display case causing it to shatter and Blaine to fall to the floor. With a kiss to his cheek the blonde man and his companion left. The last thing Blaine saw was his phone, flashing red with the message:

 

_One missed call: Kurt Hummel <3_

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Blaine couldn't quite keep his eyes open. Somehow he knew his phone was ringing and he longed to pick up. To call for help and to get them all to safety. Part of him just wanted to call Kurt, to tell him he was sorry, to tell him to come and take the pain in his head and his ribs away, to tell him that he loved him and that it didn't matter if Kurt couldn't say it back it didn't change anything. He slipped in and out of consciousness, drifting from periods of intense pain to periods of time spent in a sweet abyss of numbness.

 

He wanted to call Tina and tell her she's one of the best friends he's ever had, call his brother and thank him for being there even if at times it had felt like he'd abandoned him. Call his parents and tell them that he forgives them, and that he knows they love him. His body seemed to feel colder in every lucid moment that passed, he'd felt it before, known what it meant then and now. His eyes closed but this time they didn't open again for a long time.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

"Hey this is Blaine Anderson I can't answer right now-"

"Because I'm sucking his dick-"

"Kurt for fuck sake!"

"-I can't answer right now because I'm busy-"

"-more like getting busy..."

"Shut up! Oh my god you little..." _BEEP._

 

"Hi Blaine it's Kurt again, look I know I must look insane seeing as I've probably left a dozen messages already but I'm just worried okay? I called the shop a few times but no one answered and there was that crash and the line went dead. Or maybe you just hung up I don't know but just let me know you're alright? But anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I'm not gonna give up, I want this, I want you. I've known that all along and I just panicked. I know I keep finding ways to screw this up but I want to be with you Blaine, I want to wake up to see you lying next to me every morning with that sweet lazy smile of yours. I've fucked it all up and if this is the end then I suppose, if it's my last chance to say it, Blaine Anderson-" _BEEEEP._

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

_"All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust."_

 

"Step back please! Step back for God's sake people!" An officer yelled sternly at the gathering crowd. The narrow street was jammed with vehicles and pedestrians, some trying to get a glimpse of the scene up ahead whilst others were slowed down by police cars and an ambulance. Kurt, struggling against the current of passer bys, ran straight for the police tape and ducked under. Another officer pulled him back by the arm and Kurt hurriedly tried to explain but somewhere the ‘the love of my life works here' and the ‘what's going on, is he okay? Is Maggie okay?' got lost in translation and all that could be heard across the chaotic din was Kurt's pleading, desperate voice, begging the man to just let him through.

 

Amongst the commotion it was hardly noticeable when the door to Atkinson's Books swung open and two occupied gurneys were wheeled out. Time seemed to slow as the paramedics hurried past and he caught a glimpse of him. Lying prone on the gurney closest to him was Blaine, face bruised and cut, his hair matted with blood. "That's him! God fucking damn it just let me through!" Kurt shouted as loudly as he could, attracting the attention of the attending paramedic.

"Family?" She shouted back and Kurt shook his head, feeling hopeless as his eyes stay fixed on Blaine's lifeless body being loaded into the back of the ambulance. "Boyfriend?" She asked and he once again shook his head, tears falling to darken the concrete below "No I, I messed up. But now I know, I'm in love with him."

 

"Good enough for me." She yelled as she motioned to the officer holding him to let him go and hopped into the ambulance. Kurt scrambled in and sat down next to the gurney, taking Blaine's limp hand gingerly in his. "What's his name? We couldn't manage to get much out of the other lady at the scene." She said checking his vitals.

"B-Blaine Anderson," he replied, "is he- is he gonna be okay?"

"We found him on his own in the back room. She told us she went to give the intruders what they wanted in exchange for their safety and not his own. She heard a crash and that's all she knew." She mentioned distractedly.

 

"Sounds like Blaine alright," Kurt laughed bitterly "stupid, brave, self sacrificing asshole." The paramedic looked at him curiously with scrutinising dark brown eyes.

"Would you love him if he wasn't a ‘stupid, brave, self sacrificing asshole'?"

"No."

"Then you have nothing to worry about."

"I've never been so scared."

"He's a fighter sir, have faith in him if nothing else."


	16. Chapter 16

The rush through ER was a blur and Kurt couldn't really remember much of the initial ten or so minutes after he and the paramedics guiding Blaine's gurney had entered the hospital. He was still unconscious, wheeled into surgery as doctors spoke to each other loudly and concisely, something about bleeding and broken ribs and an acute head wound that Kurt didn't quite understand in his disorientated state. Standing almost frozen in the middle of ED he watched as an awake Maggie was wheeled through the doors, an oxygen mask covering her deathly pale face. She reached a hand out toward him and for the first time in all the months he'd known her he saw her terrified, hazy bloodshot eyes welling with tears as her mouth moved behind the mask; words he couldn't hear or decipher.

 

He watched, feeling his own tears drip onto his shirt, blending with the small splatters of blood that had found their way there as he'd clung to Blaine's own blood stained palm. It's not as if he didn't think these kind of things happened in New York, he knew people got robbed on a daily basis around the world. He just didn't think it would happen to them. When he'd left Blaine that morning he didn't wonder that maybe the next time he'd see him would be bruised, bloodied and broken lying prone and being rushed to hospital. But who ever did?

 

He waited in agony for hours, alternating between staring at the blank, clinically white walls or the waiting room and pacing the room, bothering the staff and receptionists endlessly. Time didn't seem to pass and if it did it was doing so at a crawl, the hands of the clock moving slowly, each tick echoing with finality above the din, the blur of never ending activity.

 

Nurses rushed by him and every time he hoped that they'd stop in front of him and tell him something, anything. A blonde nurse smiled at him softly every time she passed but she never stopped. Until she did. After quickly asking the receptionist she strode straight toward him, kind hazel eyes and a soft smile suddenly focussed on him. "Mister Hummel?" she asked and Kurt nodded his head, mouth full of cotton and his throat dry. "Ms Atkinson says she'd like to see you." She grinned but Kurt couldn't return her smile, his face still a blank canvas of shock and worry. When she received no reply the nurse simply asked him to follow her and led him to Maggie's room.

 

"Kurt oh my god!" Maggie called as he stepped into the room and within an instant the tears begun to fall anew.

"Maggie! How are- God are you okay I mean-"

"Hush child." She said quietly her own beautiful green eyes welling with tears as she took his hand. "Have you- how is Blaine?" Kurt stared down at their hands and took in a shuddering breath. "Last I heard he was in surgery. I- I haven't seen him since-"

"Okay." Maggie breathed as she squeezed his hand "He's going to be okay."

"God Mags I'm-" Kurt began.

"In love with him? I know sweetie. But now is the time to be there for him, and now's the time to tell him."

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Everything hurt. His head pounded and his arms felt like lead. There was a pain in his chest that stung and scraped at his insides with every move he made. He wanted to open his eyes but it felt as if they were too heavy. Slipping in and out of his deep sleep was tormenting but sleep was blissful, no sharp pain above his eyes and no aching limbs. Sleep was peaceful but he longed to be able to move again, to hear and speak and see but it was okay because sleep was good.

 

The next time he awoke the pain was duller, still present but hazier. He could hear someone's gentle voice, speaking softly, high and melodic and if he had been in any other state of mind he would've quite liked to fall asleep to its beautiful sound. The sound made him smile and his eyelashes flutter.

 

"‘She was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth. Her romantic mind was like the tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from the puzzling East, however many you discover there is always one more; and her sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get, though there it was, perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner.'" The voice spoke as if reading from a book, lilting with expression and quiet enjoyment. Kurt was reading to him, Kurt was there.  _Finally_.

 

Blaine's eyes opened and he moved his head slowly to gaze at Kurt sitting in the armchair by his bedside. A small smile graced his lips, lifting them in the right-hand corner of his mouth. "Hey" he whispered. Kurt snapped his head up and let the book fall to the floor.

"Hey." He choked out in reply. He leant forward to take Blaine's hand. Blaine winced as his IV was jostled but ignored it in favour of weakly squeezing Kurt's hand. He ached to reach out and brush the tears from Kurt's cheeks but the slightest movement made the pain flare. "Don't cry baby please." Blaine implored looking up at him helplessly.

"Don't cry? Fuck Blaine I thought I'd lost you I-"

"You're never gonna lose me Kurt." Blaine said his voice cracking as his own tears began to fall "I'm never saying goodbye to you."

"But you-"

"I was scared a-and I didn't trust you like I should have, I should have tried to talk things out with you and-" Blaine continued, breath hitching his heaving chest causing his head to pound and his ribs to scream in protest.

 

"Shh shh it's okay calm down." Kurt said gently, pushing Blaine back into the pillows and urging him to breathe "None of that matters now Blaine none of it. I almost lost you. I was wrong okay I was wrong I don't need time to think I've always known it's just you it's always been you."

"Kurt... What are you saying?"

"Blaine... There is a moment when you say to yourself-"

 

"Oh there you are! I've been looking for you forever!"

"Cooper?"

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

"What are you doing here?" Blaine asked incredulously, trying to sit up but giving up when he had to bite his lip against the pain.

"Oh B I'm still your emergency contact. I flew in from LA a couple hours ago." Cooper replied, brow furrowing. "Scared the shit out of me when I got that phone call kid." Although Cooper and Blaine didn't see or hear from each other often they were good brothers. They looked out for each other when their parents often turned a blind eye.

 

"I'm fine." Blaine muttered petulantly, still clutching Kurt's hand.

"Yeah that's what you said the last time I got a call. Three years ago in Ohio."

"Don't Cooper." He said tiredly and his head lolled back toward Kurt, who smiled softly and brushed the curls off of his bandaged forehead.

"I think we should let him rest." He whispered as Blaine's eyelids began to droop.

"Of course." Cooper muttered, taking a seat in the chair on the other side of the bed and holding his other hand. Blaine fell asleep to the sound of Kurt's voice and the feel of his brother's forehead pressed against the back of his hand.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

"So you must be Kurt." Cooper muttered as he leant heavily against the vending machine, one hand rubbing at his tired eyes whilst the other clutched his coffee. Kurt's eyes widened in shock "Blaine's spoken to you about me?"

"Well yeah," Cooper shrugged "not often I mean we're both busy guys." He gave Kurt a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. It made him wonder about the real reason they didn't talk often and if that strange look in his stormy eyes was something akin to remorse and sadness amalgamated into one overwhelming feeling of helplessness.

 

"He get's this thing, it's something in his voice- when he talks about you. It's like you hung the moon or something. I've never heard him talk like that before." Cooper added, unbeknownst to Kurt's quiet curiosity. "Talk like what?" Kurt asked.

"Like this is it for him. Whatever you two have or had. That's it."

"I don't-" Kurt started, shrinking under Cooper's scrutinising gaze. This was Blaine's brother, the only member of his family that he seemed even remotely close to. They meant a lot to each other. How was he supposed to tell Cooper how much he's hurt his little brother and explain how he still dared to be in love with him? "I've been an asshole. But now-now I-I need to tell him, even if he doesn't want anything to do with me. After what happened I just- I need him to know."

 

Cooper nodded. "I probably shouldn't tell you this but-" he hesitated, "he does trust you, at least enough for this." So Cooper told Kurt about a younger Blaine, about his fight through high school. They sat on the uncomfortable off white plastic chairs right outside Blaine's room and talked. Cooper didn't hold back his tears when he told Kurt about the last time he'd seen his brother in hospital and neither did Kurt as he listened. Listened to Cooper tell him about how Blaine was bullied because he was gay and in art club. Listened as he was told the tale of a boy who went to a school dance with his crush only to end up bleeding and unconscious on the asphalt of the parking lot. He clenched his jaw as he heard that his parents' reaction was to simply ship him off to private school and ignore it all. All of this, he realised, had only happened no more than 3 years ago.

 

Suddenly Kurt felt as if he knew nothing of Blaine or his life. He had never thought to ask, content to get to know him via his mannerisms, his likes and dislikes rather than through his past. For Kurt knowing what it meant when Blaine smiled at him just so or why he'd brought a particular mug in his strangely varied collection was enough. To know how his voice sounded, rough and slurring, when he fell asleep, tired and sated. He knew him well but subsequently not well enough.

 

For so long he'd been scared of his own demons clawing at his coat tails. But he knew nothing of Blaine's, who despite it all still managed to love so honestly and so completely. How did Kurt ever think he could do anything but the same?

 

"The paramedic said he was a fighter," Kurt said after Cooper had fallen silent, "and that's truer than I could've ever imagined."

 

Cooper excused himself and went back to Blaine's room. Kurt watched quietly as the man hugged his brother gingerly and the look of surprise and joy on Blaine's face was enough to reassure him for the time being. He watched them for a while, a teary smile tugging at his lips and he covered his mouth against his laugh as a rosy blush bloomed on Blaine's unnaturally pale skin, obviously a result of his brother's teasing. Blaine heard his laugh and smiled over at him, beckoning him to join them. He declined with a shake of his head, smiling as he turned and walked out into the hallway. He contemplated going to tell Maggie that Blaine was awake but he thought better of it seeing as it was late and she was most likely resting.

 

Making his way outside he took a deep breath, the air of the city almost cleansed by the plummeting rain. The rain soaked his shirt, clinging to his grime covered skin and he felt alive. Surrounded by death and anguish and worry, joy, relief. He had a family here, and however hard it had been, whatever mistakes they'd made; he thought that just maybe they might make it through. The rain washed it all away. And after the rain, after the dark and uncertain night dawns a new day. A new day to keep on living.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for character death, discussion of cancer, general sadness and misery.

Blaine slept a lot but Maggie slept even more. He had yet had a chance to visit her considering the fact he was still confined to his own hospital bed. Kurt had assured him she was fine but something about the look on his face made him uneasy, not in the sense that he thought Kurt was lying to him, but that it seemed as if there were things he was deliberately not telling him.

 

It was the Tuesday after their admission to hospital that Blaine discovered that Maggie had contracted Pneumonia. A nurse had let it slip and it had sent him into panic immediately. The doctors assured him she'd recover, that it was perfectly treatable with antibiotics and other medicines. Blaine thought he knew better. Kurt caught him struggling through the wires attached to his body, trying futilely to get out of bed to see her. He was chastised like a child and he asked Kurt to leave, once again cocooned in scratchy blue hospital blankets and needles and wires poking and prodding at his skin. It wasn't until Thursday that the staff, and Kurt and Cooper alike conceded and let him visit her. He was helped out of his bed and into a wheelchair and carted down the hall.

 

As soon as he entered the room his face split into a grin and he made sure that Kurt had positioned his chair as close to Maggie's bed as possible. "Oh Blaine!" She cried with a beautiful smile "It's so good to see you!" Blaine's eyes began to well up with tears and he took her delicate and wrinkled hand in his own.

"I missed you Mags" he said laughing and squeezed.

"I missed you too darling boy," she said fondly in reply.

 

His visits carried on in very much the same way everyday after that Thursday. He asked about the book that was stolen but she confessed she didn't know much about it, only that James' had said it was a gift. She didn't seem too upset that it may never be returned to them, she was just glad they were all okay. With every visit he noticed just how sick she was beginning to look, the pale blue pallor of her skin, the clamminess of her hand and the shallowness of her breath. He didn't worry, much. She was strong and healthy despite her age and the doctors assured him she was doing well.

 

That was until the day he was due to be discharged. He had healed well and quickly, he'd given a statement to the police who were apparently hell bent on catching the guys who had robbed the bookstore. Blaine had little faith, he couldn't remember their faces, being smashed head first into a display case does that to a person. He was ready and all set to go back to his apartment accompanied by Kurt and Cooper but he was adamant that he spend a few hours with Maggie first.

 

She looked well. Her skin had return to it's natural colour and her breathing seemed less laboured. The illusion was shattered with a single cheery greeting "Hello James!"

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Blaine didn't go home that day no matter how much Cooper and Kurt tried to convince him to. He still needed his rest after all but Blaine wouldn't budge. Maggie's state was deteriorating and he refused to leave her side, she wasn't responding as well to treatment as the doctors had initially thought, they were trying something new, something different but Blaine didn't understand, he tried, for Maggie's sake but he just didn't.

 

His winged heart had crashed and sunk to the bottom of his rib cage the moment those two words had left her mouth. She was confused, disorientated, thinking she was in recovery after having her appendix removed when she was twenty and her and James were still only courting. He hadn't had the heart to tell her that James had been dead for just over two years. So he patted her on the hand and tried to choke back the tears as he said "hello darling" with a smile and his heart breaking in two.

 

She was fine when he returned from getting coffee in the hospital cafeteria but the nurses warned him that it might happen again and more frequently.

 

Maggie chatted as if nothing was wrong. She seemed happy and never mentioned what was wrong or if she was in any pain. She urged him to go home, get some rest and as always he listened to her, kissing her cheek as he went to stand with Kurt, cuddling into his side as Kurt guided him out of her room and out of the hospital.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Blaine laid awake that night on his side on the right side of his bed, Kurt occupying the left. It was weird. Kurt's breathing wasn't deep or steady enough for him to be asleep yet and he tried not to remember that he knew that because they'd shared a bed many times before. The pain in his ribs was beginning to flare again and he failed to stifled a groan as he turned onto his back to stare up at the black ceiling. Startled Kurt switched the lamp on and sat quietly by his side.

 

"You were worrying so loudly I couldn't sleep either." Kurt tried to joke but Blaine didn't laugh.

"Not funny Kurt." He said coldly.

"Hey hey no," Kurt mumbled as he stopped Blaine from turning his back on him "I'm sorry, I'm worried too. I'm not going anywhere either Blaine. We're in this together." With a deep sigh Blaine turned his head to look at Kurt, his eyes were puffy and his hair a bed mussed mess, he didn't have the right to snap at him, after all he'd done for him and Maggie since the break in, besides, he was just as anxious as Blaine. "She's all I have," Blaine sobbed, voice cracking as Kurt wrapped his arms around him, careful of his injuries, "I can't lose her, I can't Kurt I just can't."

 

Kurt held him as Blaine muffled his sobs into the skin of his shoulder, cocooned in the comforter and Kurt's arms. "She's going to be okay Blaine." He said adamantly, brushing the wetness from Blaine's cheeks "You know her B, she's a strong lady. She won't let this beat her, not after everything." Blaine smiled weakly, his hazel eyes still watery as he looked up at Kurt thankfully. "Tell me about her." Kurt said and Blaine stared bemusedly.

"You know her? What is there to tell?"

"I don't know her like you know her." Blaine was quiet for a long time before snuggling in closer, resting his head on Kurt's chest as he thought back to when he first moved to New York.

 

"I moved to New York only a couple of weeks after graduation." He said simply, remembering the feeling of desperation, how it made his chest feel tight and his head pound. He remembered wanting to get out as soon as possible. He'd had it all figured out. He'd started working during the summer of his freshman year, saving, planning, doing the research and connecting the dots. He wanted out so badly that his senior year passed by in a blur, always focused on New York, art, getting out that he became numb to the slurs hurled at him in the hallways. Two weeks after he graduated he threw his stuff into the beat up car he'd bought and fixed up himself and hightailed it to New York without looking back. With a lot of difficulty he sold his car and used what little money he had left to put down a deposit and pay the first months rent on the apartment he still called home.

 

"On my second day in the city I was already looking for a job. This dumb kid wandering the streets with messy hair and questionable fashion sense. I had no clue what I was doing, and with only a suitcase, my art stuff and a record player to my name what was I supposed to do?" Blaine paused in his retelling of his first time in New York and Kurt was reeling. Blaine had travelled to New York, with his own money, nothing but his tuition for college and a trunk full of his stuff as insurance. He had known Blaine had worked hard but never thought he had worked that hard. His offer to help Blaine so long ago seemed even more of an insult. He had already come so far all on his own, who was Kurt to think that Blaine needed him at all? But he couldn't turn back time, and he was still safe in the knowledge that Blaine would have been able to do it all without him, but he doesn't have to. He doesn't have to be alone, ever again. "You're phenomenal you know that?" Kurt remarked as he kissed his curls and Blaine hummed, wiggling in his position still on Kurt's chest. "I know..." he replied offhandedly,

 

"Anyway, I was wandering around, enquiring in coffee shops and the like until it eventually started getting dark, or as dark as it can get in the city that never sleeps. I was starting to think about heading back until I rounded a corner and there it was, this tiny quaint little bookstore sandwiched between a laundromat and an off-license. The sign said it was already closed but what drew me in was the music, the faint sound of Sinatra filtering through the cracks in the door frame as I pressed against the door to try and peer inside." Blaine stopped and hummed a few bars of New York, New York before giggling into Kurt's shoulder. "Obviously James then appeared at the window and scared the shit out of me. I smacked my head against the door and stumbled back into the street, snapping my glasses and dropping my bag that held my resumes and my sketchbook, everything just- went everywhere I was so embarrassed." Kurt didn't need to see Blaine's face to know that he was blushing crimson even at the mere memory of himself, fumbling with his things on the sidewalk and stuffing them all back into his bag whilst muttering unheard apologies to the disgruntled passers by, and cursing earth and sky for making him so jittery.

 

"So there I was on my knees on the sidewalk, vision greatly obscured by my ruined glasses and I hear the door open and the bell ring. There's Maggie, hand over her mouth and eyes full of kindness and concern and behind her is James, doubled over, laughing his fucking ass off so much so that Maggie ended up yelling at him until he laughed himself into an asthma attack. She's kind and gentle but she's fierce and protective when it comes to those she's fond of." Blaine recounted all of this laughing so hard that Kurt feared Blaine would have an asthma attack but the fond memory left Kurt grinning and yet so terribly sad he hadn't shared the moment with them. "Ten minutes later I found myself in an armchair opposite a stern looking James, clutching a cup of chamomile tea and my glasses stuck together with duct tape and super glue."

 

"He was terrifying at first but then he asked me my name and what I was doing there. I said that I'd only been in the city a couple of days and I was looking for work when I'd seen the shop and heard Sinatra. We talked about the shop and about music and by that time Mags had joined us again- I told them I moved from Ohio on my own and that I wanted to be an artist and that I had a place but I had to eat somehow. I completely offloaded on these two strangers within the first hour of meeting them. I just said that I left because I wanted out. James just looked me up and down once and then offered me a job, simple as that." Blaine trailed off, tears glistening in his eyes again as he felt the overwhelming surge of gratitude he had felt toward these people on many occasions and was hit once again with the knowledge that James was gone now and Maggie was ill in hospital.

 

"I told them- I told them that school was rough and Ohio just wasn't the place for ‘someone like me'. I think they knew then, that I'm gay I mean but they never mentioned it. I remember coming in to work one day, basically crying, and Maggie was ill in bed that day so I wasn't greeted with my usual chamomile and chat by the record player. Instead James just took one look at me and just hugged me. Just walked straight up to me, this burly New Yorker, just walked straight up to me and hugged me. He said ‘Blaine. Blaine you tell me, has this guy you've been telling Mags about been treating you right?' I shook my head and he held me at arms length and asked, as casual as a passing pleasantry "So where does he live?"

 

"He sounds wonderful." Kurt choked out, moved to tears as Blaine so fondly recounted memories of the one man that he's ever looked up to, more so than his actual father.

"He was," Blaine said quietly "we miss him, Maggie and I. At first he always seemed so stoic but he was so kind and loving and you should have seen Maggie and him together. I have never known two people so in love. They were- are my family here." Blaine sniffed and then reached over to pluck his wallet from the bedside table. He pulled out a photograph of them all, Maggie sandwiched between James and Blaine, all of them smiling and looking very tired. "It's the only picture I have of us. We'd been up all night with James in the hospital. He'd had a bad turn and had to stay overnight for tests and observation. It's when he started really getting ill, and we all knew it at the time. We were almost out of business and school and Jonah was weighing on me. It was a really stressful time but we knew we'd make it through or die trying. I still can't believe James didn't make it, he fought it and fought it but cancer is just too bitter, too evil."

 

Blaine sniffed again and brushed his fingertip against the edge of the photo where it was held in Kurt's trembling grasp. They were silent for a long time after that, Kurt watching and gently caressing Blaine as he looked at the picture, letting him feel and wallow in the past for a while. Blaine finally broke the silence, his voice timid, quiet and scared. "I hope Maggie makes it. I'm not ready to say goodbye yet."

"Me either," Kurt whispered fervently as he recalled Maggie's wise words "me either."

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

They got the call at 8.17 AM on a Saturday in October.

 

Blaine answered. The conversation was short and his breath was hitching as he hung up.

 

Kurt strode across the room and was with him within seconds, ready to catch him when he fell.

 

And fall he did.

 

Margret Lucille Atkinson was pronounced dead at 8.12 AM Saturday October 3rd. She died peacefully in her sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

It was raining at the funeral; the cemetery was drab and bleak in the clichéd way that all the movies showed someone special finally being laid to rest. Neither Blaine nor Kurt thought much of God but they hoped she was somewhere better, somewhere with James if such a place existed. There weren't many people gathered around the grave, a few acquaintances and colleagues, no family, not if you didn't include Blaine. He was dressed impeccably, tailored black suit and a black woollen frock coat, smart and the picture of containment if it weren't for the tear tracks staining his cheeks, he clutched a bouquet to his chest, tuned out the sermon and watched as the coffin was lowered right next to James'. Kurt stood with his arms tight around him; his own tears falling silently as he listened to the sniffles of the other attendees. It was too soon. It was always too soon.

 

The ceremony came to an end, the grave fresh with new earth and those in attendance drifted away, muttering condolences to the grief stricken boy they didn't know laying daisies on the head stone. Even Kurt eventually walked back to the sidewalk sensing that Blaine needed time, despite how much he ached to take him in his arms and soothe his grief away, he knew that he wouldn't be able to.

 

"I wasn't ready." Blaine whispered as he stood looking down upon the stone that bore her name, dates of birth and death and a simple inscription, 'I taught you to fight and to fly, what more could there be?' it read. "I miss you every day and I will for the rest of my life," he said his voice growing thin and choked "I don't want to hear it'll get better or you wouldn't want me to feel this way because it'll  _always_  feel this way." Anger boiled inside of him and he had no where to direct it. It was never something that was under their control, the break in, the illness. It was so lawless, indiscriminate, and ruthless. Blaine had had his fair share of hardships but losing Maggie was something he'd never even entertained the notion of, not even in his darkest nightmares where evil long forgotten crept back into his consciousness.

 

"Fuck, Mags this isn't fair!" He screamed, disturbing the solemn silence of the cemetery. "You're supposed to be there when I graduate, when I get married and I have kids of my own, Christmases, thanksgivings, birthdays..." He trailed off swiping furiously beneath his eyes but the tears just kept falling, darkening the grey headstone as he rested his forehead against it. "Nothing makes sense anymore and I know you, you'd say ‘oh stop being so dramatic dear, you'll hurt yourself'" Blaine whispered with a sense of hopelessness twisting in the confines of his ribcage. "You were supposed to be there to see and do all the things I know mum and dad won't do."

 

His breath hitched with sobs but he stood up trying to breathe again for the first time since he'd gotten the phone call. "You were my best friend and I can't thank you enough, for taking me in, protecting me in your own way, for being there when no one else was. I love you so much Mags and I'm gonna make you proud." Laying a kiss to the top of the headstone he let his fingertips graze the soft petals of the daisies he'd left there. He straightened up and with a bitter smile he turned, jamming his hands into his pockets and hunching his shoulders against the chill of the gathering wind.

 

When Blaine reached Kurt at the sidewalk he hugged him tight. He'd had to say goodbye to his best friend that day, he'd be damned if he ever had to say goodbye to the love of his life.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

It was a long while before either of them were ready to go back to the store. The police had moved out a while ago and there was no comfort in the reports that they were told were being filed or the suspects they thought they had. The investigation was still ongoing but not for much longer they thought wryly as they unlocked and opened the door, hearts breaking a little at the welcoming chime of the bell above it.

 

It looked exactly as it had on that day and Blaine had to stand still for a long while, his eyes closed and his hands clenched into fists as he remembered the two men ripping books from the shelves and trashing everything they'd worked for. He flinched when Kurt touched his shoulder, his mind flashing back to the sound of the silver tongued man's voice, his words and his - his touch. He remembered every detail up to the moment his head was smashed into the glass cabinet in the back room. He brushed his fingers across the faint webbed scar that marred the right side of his forehead and winced.

 

"Let's clean this place up." He said decisively once the shaking had stopped. Kurt simply nodded and got to it. He didn't ask if Blaine was okay, he knew that he was, to an extent. He knew from experience that he needed time. Blaine was resilient and strong, and as Kurt had learned he didn't need mollycoddling, just support. Blaine walked over to the old record player, thankfully still intact. He sat on the dusty floor and pulled the box of records to him, pulling out a familiar Glen Miller record and setting it playing. He closed his eyes briefly pretending for a moment that it was like any other day, Maggie shimmying down the shelves as he sat sketching at the front desk.

 

Words could never describe how it felt when he opened his eyes to see the wrecked shop, but he carried on, stood up, brushed the dust from his pants and picked up a broom, getting straight to work.

 

They worked long into the evening until finally the store resembled its old self. Blaine seemed brighter with it, the more the floor was cleared or the shelves were stocked the more he smiled and laughed again. Until, he placed another book on top of the pile of books that had been damaged. There were two piles, one that needed minor repairs that Blaine was sure he'd be able to fix himself and another that consisted of books to be sold to specialists, with the skills and knowledge needed to fix and sell them. As Blaine placed his last book on the pile he noticed several pieces of paper slip from its pages.

 

He couldn't hear what Kurt might have been saying to him as blood pounded in his ears and he bent slowly to pick them up. There were two sets of papers, one addressed to himself and one to Kurt, their names inscribed on the front in Maggie's elegant handwriting. "Blaine? Blaine!" Kurt called, walking over to him when he didn't get a response. His heartbeat quickened as he saw Blaine staring down at the papers in his hands, his eyes glassy with tears. He looked up and smiled "Um I think Mags wrote some letters for us, here-" He said passing Kurt his, "I'm going - I want to read it alone if- if that's okay with you?"

"Of course" Kurt muttered softly and Blaine walked quietly over to one of the arm chairs and sank into it, holding his letter in shaking hands. Kurt decided to take his to The Fix, the coffee shop across the street, hoping that the more public setting would stop him from breaking down.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

_My darling Blaine,_

_I expect you're wondering when I even wrote this letter. I am currently confined to my hospital bed, listening to your halfwit brother, bless his heart, wax poetic about these wonderful blueberry shortcake squares that are apparently ‘your specialty' and my dear I'm a little offended you have never thought to let me sample these delicacies. Don't be too harsh on him but I had Cooper deliver yours and Kurt's letter here, with specific instruction that you weren't too find them until I've left this world. Now sugar yes I know I don't have long, I'm weary and I miss my James. Don't be angry, I'm not afraid but I know when I'm beat sweetie, and after a wonderful and happy life I am content to finally let what will be, be._

_I'm leaving the store and the apartment above it to you and Kurt both. You may decide what to do with it and I hope it serves you well, whether you sell it or decide to keep it. It's only fair that it's passed from one set of partners in crime to another._

_I love you very much Blaine and although I met you very late in life, you to me are the son I had always wanted. You are kind, intelligent, brave and most importantly of all the most loving man I have ever met besides my James. I have watched you grow and flourish and I am only sad that I will not get to see you continue to do so. Nothing pains me more than knowing that I will not be there to watch you marry and have children with the man you love. I'm telling you now Blaine Devon Anderson that man will be Kurt, the way you are so reminds me of James and I that it often ached to see you together. He is a stubborn man but he loves you with all his heart, it has just taken him longer than most to figure out that he is capable of loving someone as much as he loves you. You have both made your mistakes but never say goodbye to him Blaine, I've seen you without him before and it was agony._

_Now promise me you will always be joyful, follow your heart Blaine and never give up. You're talent knows no bounds and I'm so proud of you. I love you darling boy, and wherever I end up I'll always be watching over you. Now I must say goodbye after all, "I suppose it's like the ticking crocodile, isn't it? Time is chasing after all of us."_

 

_All my love, now and forever,_

_Mags_

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

_Dear Kurt,_

_You wonderfully, stupid and kind hearted man. I'm sorry to say that I asked Cooper to deliver your letter in secret and to ensure that you didn't find them until I was gone. It was cruel of me to ask this of him so don't be too angry with him, after all he is a sweet man who was unlikely to deny an old woman her dying wish. Yes I know I'm going to die, I'm nothing if not perceptive and the way in which the nurses keep glancing at me nervously as if I'm going to snuff it within the next ten minutes is enough of a give away for even the most oblivious of individuals. I say this to you as I know you will understand me, whereas I feel that if I told Blaine this in much the same way he would be most upset, and I don't wish to add to the pain my death has undoubtedly caused him._

_The bookstore now belongs to you and Blaine sweetie. It did not take me long to decide that everything would go to both of you, seeing as I have no family and you have brought me such joy and laughter in my autumn days. I cherish you both and you may do what you will with the store._

_I'm sorry that I have so often been harsh on you but I will not lie and say you haven't caused my Blaine a lot of unnecessary pain. I love him as if he were my son, and there is nothing more vicious in this world than a mother's love for her child. You love him my dear and you have been a fool to keep it from him. Gosh he has looked at you like you hung the moon and stars since you first stepped foot in my bookshop and if you weren't telling him out of fear that he didn't feel the same way then you are twice the fool and blind to boot. You're an intelligent man Kurt Elizabeth Hummel but you have a lot to learn. Have courage and tell our sweet boy the truth._

_I'm glad to have met you Kurt and I'm only saddened that I do not have more time to get to know you better, and see you walk down the aisle to meet our beautiful boy Blaine at the alter. I wish you both every happiness. Write the ending to your own story Kurt, and make it a happily ever after._

 

_All my love, forever and always,_

_Mags_

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Blaine jolted upright as the bell chimed above the door, signalling Kurt's return. "Kurt..." He trailed off breathlessly, hands still gripping his letter tightly. He stood up and trembled as Kurt looked at him, his blue eyes bright and wet. "You've waited so long..." Kurt said his voice hoarse and cracking.

"Kurt what-" Blaine started, scared and confused but he was cut off when Kurt strode across the room, stopping right in front of him, so close he could smell the scent of coffee and cologne and typewriter ink. "Just to hear those three little words..." He said with amazement like he couldn't believe the boy in front of him was real. Blaine closed his eyes overwhelmed and dizzy with confusion, he felt fingertips brush his damp cheek and Kurt's warm breath against his ear. "I love you." He whispered, steady and sure and Blaine wrapped his arms around him, smiling until Kurt tilted his head up and kissed him, the sound of the big band trumpets fading into the background.

 

"I love you too you fucking idiot" Blaine replied against his lips and Kurt laughed, pulling Blaine impossibly closer.

"Holy fucking shit thank God for that!" He cried and Blaine giggled, burying his head in the dip between Kurt's neck and shoulder that seemed to be made for him. "Now..." he continued, "this fucking idiot wants to know if you'd like to [ **dance**](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JaoC-fxoPqo)."

 

"I'd love to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Kurt and Blaine dance to is Uptown Blues by Jimmie Lunceford.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Blaine deserves to be fought for...

Everything seemed to fall into place after that day at the bookstore. Kurt was at Blaine's apartment more often then Blaine himself and he was beginning to wonder when he'd become a permanent resident in his humble abode. Blaine was still coming across items that Maggie had given him, letters and books and he would break out into tearful sniffles. It still ached to know that she wouldn't be there to greet him in the mornings with her tea of the week. It would always ache because he would always miss her, and although things didn't feel hopeless any longer, he was laden with the knowledge that she just wasn't there anymore. He was starting to focus on the good times and remember and cherish the love she had for the both of them.

 

Having Kurt by his side, constant and unwavering, gave him hope. Kurt was patient, understanding and missed Maggie just as much as Blaine did with every passing day.

 

It was on one of the rare days when Blaine didn't have class that he found it. He was emptying the waste paper basket under Kurt's desk when an embossed piece of heavy card fell to the floor. Curious, he picked it up and could see that it was an invitation to another literary gala. Immediately he knew why the invitation had ended up in the trash, the last gala still brought a bitter lump to his throat. The evening hadn't been all bad however, Blaine couldn't recall a time he had ever felt as content and safe as he had felt in Kurt's arms as they danced all evening long. With a resolve to talk to Kurt about it later he attached it to the refrigerator door.

 

He completely forgot about it until Kurt came home from a meeting with his current editor. "Hi!" He called, taking off his coat  and hanging it on its hook by the door before toeing off his shoes. He made his way into the kitchen and stopped dead, his hand on the fridge door, "Blaine?" he called and Blaine dashed in from where he'd been holed up on the couch, buried under books, sketches and a vast array of art materials. He slipped his arms around Kurt's waist and stood on tip toes in order to hook his chin over his shoulder.

 

"Hey handsome." He said cheerily kissing Kurt on the cheek.

"What's this?" Kurt muttered, trying to keep his tone light whilst staring apprehensively at the invitation as if the mere sight of it was offensive.

"Oh..." Blaine whispered, having completely forgotten about his resolve to ask Kurt about the gala in the wake of his afternoon of shading and composition and Kurt's overcast expression. "I'm not going," Kurt added adamantly, "not after last time when-"

"Yeah but that was  _last time_." Blaine interjected. "Things are different now. You have a different agent and you're running in different circles than you were several months ago, it's a chance to make new, less bittersweet memories-"

"And it just so happens that it's big band night at the ballroom at which the gala's being held." Kurt said shrewdly, turning around and wrapping his arms around Blaine's delectable waist with a grin.

 

"Okay so I may have an ulterior motive..." Blaine muttered bashfully, smiling that smile that made his cheeks puff out and his eyes crinkle at the corners. "I think we should go." Blaine whispered against Kurt's jaw, suddenly sultry. " _Blaine_." Kurt tried to sound stern but his eyes fluttered shut as Blaine placed a sucking kiss on his neck. "That's not fair, God you do this everytime."

" _Please_." He whined against Kurt's ear and Kurt conceded.

"Okay fine, any excuse to get dressed up and then undressed again afterwards. You better be on your best behaviour mister, using your wiles to get your own way,  _again_."

"Yes!" Blaine cheered, clapping his hands and bouncing on his toes.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Nothing ever seemed to go as planned for Blaine Anderson. The morning of the gala saw everything going wrong. He'd woken up late for class and then forgotten his sketch book, resulting in him having to double back and pick it up. Luke, a guy in his class that he'd been on a few dates with had been making snide remarks about his pastel pieces and spreading the rumour that he had only gained the centre panel spot at the exhibition at NYU's Silver Center because Kurt had some kind of connection with the coordinator and their professor. How they even knew that he and Kurt were involved at the time was a mystery and on top of that Kurt didn't even know anyone at the gallery or any of his professors. He'd lost his favourite pen and the lense had fallen out of the right side of his glasses (he still couldn't find those contact lenses).

 

By the time he'd made it home at one o'clock he couldn't bring himself to do anything but fall face first into the couch cushions and just lie there for twenty more minutes. Eventually he gathered enough strength to shrug out of his coat, pull off his shoes and trudge to the bathroom to run himself a bath.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

It was there, ten minutes later, that Kurt found him. "Hi baby" he whispered smiling as he tip toed into the bathroom. Blaine looked up at him from the bath tub, his eyes heavy lidded and his eyelashes clumped with water. "Hi" he muttered just as quietly lifting his arm to wave before dropping it back into the water with a splash. He looked tired, his eyes blinking slowly open and closed. "Bad day?" Kurt said concernedly, kneeling on the tiled floor by the edge of the bath. He ran his fingers through Blaine's damp hair and delighted in the happy hum he received as thanks.

 

"It was... eventful," he said slowly, blinking up at Kurt with a small smile "better now though." He leant up for a kiss and Kurt met him halfway. It was sweet and languid and Kurt felt Blaine breathe a sigh against his lips and sink further into the water. Kurt pulled back and couldn't help but let his fingertips trail down his damp neck and across his collarbone. He heard his breath hitch and tore his gaze away from Blaine's smooth skin to look at him, his eyes a darkening hazel in the harsh light of the bathroom, pink lips parted ever so slightly.

 

"You make everything you do look so stunning you know that?" Kurt said breathlessly, trying hard not to overstep. Everything was still so new and even though they teased and flirted with each other, the most they had done this time around was a particularly heated make out session, though they had no qualms about being naked in each other's presence, it was a wonder how they'd managed to make it this far.

 

Flushing all the way down to his navel Blaine chuckled. "Alright smooth talker." He quipped giggling.

"You got me." Kurt grinned "Have you done your hair?" Blaine shook his head no so Kurt set to it, working shampoo into Blaine's silky curls as he lamented his tiring and tedious day. Washed and rinsed Kurt stepped out of the bathroom as Blaine finished up and brought the suits he'd managed to acquire into Blaine's bedroom, excited to show him what they would be wearing that evening.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

How Kurt managed to find Blaine's suit for the gala was a mystery to him. A vintage 1920s black classic tuxedo, complete with satin waistcoat and pocket square it must have cost a fortune to rent let alone buy, and Kurt had brought it of course. It was the first time that Blaine couldn't bring himself to protest over something Kurt had offered to purchase him, Kurt presented it to him with a general aura of terrified excitement, as if he was so proud he'd acquired such a find but was also cringing in wait of Blaine's outrage over Kurt ‘wasting' his money on him.

 

This time, however, Blaine found himself completely and utterly speechless. He had his hands firmly over his mouth and he was blinking rapidly.

 

"Please say something. Seriously please anything." Kurt said in a rush watching Blaine's every move.

"It's- I um-" Blaine had to cough to subtly disguise the tremble in his voice "it's beautiful Kurt thank you so much." He flung his arms around him and kissed him deeply, approximately five times in quick succession. "It's gorgeous!" Blaine cried moving back and practically bouncing where he stood. "I can't wait to wear it gosh I've never worn anything so luxurious."

 

"Oh honey if I could afford it you'd be dressed in vintage couture, satin, silk and velvet everyday of the week." Kurt grinned now pulling out his own suit from the garment bag spread neatly on the other side of the bed. "Oh Kurt." Blaine gasped as he saw what Kurt would be wearing. It was more modern than Blaine's suit and in silver but just as fine quality wise. It was slim cut with a straight tie and Blaine could see it emphasising every curve and contour of his body. "You're going to look so handsome." He mumbled staring at the suit and Kurt laughed, coming up behind him and hugging him tightly. "Sometimes I think you must've stumbled right out of an old movie."

"Maggie always used to say..." Blaine said quietly, his heart clenching in his chest.

"Maggie always used to say you have an ‘old soul' yeah." Kurt added just as quietly hugging him a little tighter. They'd remember her tonight, and James, as they danced and sang and drank champagne, he thought to himself. But he still wished he could save a dance for Mags, just one last time.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Blaine's heart was beating fast as they approach the ball room. Kurt was holding his hand and he passed their invitation to the attendant and waited as the doors were opened and they were announced. "Misters Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson." They descended into the ballroom as the other attendees watched them in mild interest. Kurt, entirely confused by the formalness of the occasion chanced a glance at Blaine, who quickly but discreetly, pulled Kurt's elbow up so that their arms were interlinked and was smiling beatifically.

 

"Who's hosting the gala?" He muttered, his mouth barely moving out of his charming smile.

"Thomas, my new agent." Kurt said quickly, trying futilely to follow his lead.

"We'll speak to him first, walk us to him." Blaine added as he all but glided from the bottom step, his shoulders back, walking tall as Kurt lead them to a tall man with sandy hair at the centre of the room. "Kurt hello, wonderful to see you, and what an entrance your beau certainly does know his ballroom etiquette doesn't he?" Thomas, commented. "You must be Mister Anderson," he added, shaking Blaine's hand and smiling like Christmas had come early.

"Please, call me Blaine, mister..." Blaine replied politely with an easy smile.

"Deering, oh but do call me Tom. Kurt has told me so much about you." He laughed and Blaine smiled, elated that Thomas was a lot more kindly than Matthew ever was. Meanwhile, Kurt just stared on in awe, listening as Blaine conversed effortlessly with Thomas about art and literature and all manner of things until he excused himself to speak to the other guests.

 

After Thomas' departure he caught the attention of a waitress with a simple hand gesture and plucked two champagne flutes from a silver tray and thanked her, turning and inclining his head as he offered one to Kurt. "Have I just stepped into an alternate reality? What was-" he waved his hand vaguely in the air "all of that?" Blaine was smiling mischieviously as he took a sip of champagne. "My parent's are regulars at a country club, ridiculously rich and pretentious the lot of them. I grew up attending old time balls and cotillions, they were quite fun really considering most of us teenagers were only attending because our parent's insisted on it. Maggie also taught me some things when she told me about her trip to England to visit family with James when they were young. James' extended family came from a very old English aristocratic family. Obviously I have to adapt things a little now, I'm not escorting an adolescent débutante now am I?"

 

"Should've known." Kurt said simply, reaching for Blaine's hand again whilst Blaine snorted into his drink. "Everything makes sense now, that's why you're so old."

"I'm not old, I'm twenty, remember ‘cause you missed my-"

"Birthday, yes the second of November, again I'm sorry." Kurt cut him off.

"That's okay the suit can be my belated birthday present."

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

As the evening wore on the atmosphere became a little less formal. Blaine was in his element despite the formal setting being part of what he left behind when he left Ohio and his parents. He didn't seem resentful of them despite Kurt having gathered that they were cold and distant. Blaine assured them that he believed that they loved him, as they told him every year at Christmas eve and on his birthday, it's just that they had expected different things from him than what he had decided to pursue. Blaine's adamancy to pursue art and not join his father's medical practice probably still stung his father but despite his harsh words when Blaine left for New York and his stubbornness in his first year of college, they had a relationship that was far from perfect but worked for them at the very least.

 

Kurt and Blaine spent the evening conversing pleasantly with the other guests, drinking copious amounts of champagne and giggling wrapped up in each other in various corners of the ornate ballroom. Except from when the band played a song that Blaine loved, and they shimmied their way to the dance floor.

 

Blaine could dance. It seemed that all those years at balls and bouncing around the shop with Maggie had given him plenty of practice and he was alight with it. He led Kurt in a simple waltz before a woman with shimmering blonde hair and a 1950s pale pink sweetheart dress asked him for a dance. Startled but still grinning Blaine looked at Kurt who nodded and then stepped back, Blaine agreed and then they were spinning away across the polished floor.

 

"Sorry to steal you from your beau," she said "but you're a magnificent dancer. I'm Tom's wife, Maddison Deering."

"Nice to meet you. I love your dress." Blaine said politely, trying hard to concentrate on dancing. He was starting to get a little dizzy and the champagne he'd consumed wasn't helping. "Thank you. I just wanted to say that you and Kurt make a lovely couple, he's been to our home a few times for meetings and things and he always mentions you. You're just as handsome as he said you were." She was very pretty and her smile was kind like Thomas'. Blaine suddenly wondered if they had any children and that if they did, they must be the most well-mannered children in the world. "Thank you." He said simply, his voice wobbling slightly. They stayed silent after that, content to focus on gliding effortlessly across the floor.

 

When the song drew to a close they bowed and curtsied respectively and the small crowd that had gathered to watch them applauded.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

"Now Kurt, tell me, what was the inspiration for this new book of yours. I loved it of course but it's so different from your other works, so um... gritty." Niall droned on in his nasally voice. Kurt wished desperately that he'd stop talking. Ever since Blaine had been whisked away from him by Maddison, Niall had been prattling on about not much in particular. "Thank you. I um met someone on my arrival back in New York and I just started writing." Kurt said with a small smile, forcing himself not to turn around and gaze longingly at Blaine's back.

 

"Ahh yes the infamous Blaine Anderson."

"I'm sorry?" Kurt said bemusedly.

"Oh we all know about you two Kurt. Darling, just darling, and I must say it's so noble of you," he continued in his abhorrently tinny voice, "to help a struggling artist get back on his feet."

"Is that what you think?" Kurt said enraged, "Is that the rumour going round? That Blaine is just some student down on his luck and I'm what? Being gracious by bringing him here, for loving him?" Niall drew back looking startled and indignant. He scoffed and lowered his voice, grabbing his elbow and trying to steer him away from the heads turning in their direction. "You don't expect us to believe you actually love that boy do you?" Niall snapped scornfully. Kurt drew himself to full height ready to tear the man in two when he noticed that the man's eyes were no longer on him but staring in apparent terror at someone behind him.

 

Kurt turned around and saw Blaine, eyes trained on the floor with two champagne flutes trembling in his hands. "Blaine I-" but before Kurt could finish his sentence, Blaine took a deep breath and turned. He walked away, chin up and posture perfect. He returned the glasses to the waiter's tray he'd taken them from and strode straight toward the exit.

 

"Fuck!" Kurt cursed under his breath, sprinting to the stage and grabbing a microphone. He tapped his glass to get everyone's attention but Blaine kept walking. "Ladies and gentlemen I'd like to say a few words..." His voice trembled as he spoke, heart pounding against his rib cage as he prayed for Blaine to stop walking. He rushed his words, not caring how desperate he sounded. "I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the reason I'm even here tonight." Blaine was almost at the door, making his way up the marble steps. "The love of my life Blaine Devon Anderson." There were a dozen soft coos and finally Blaine stopped, back to him but he had stopped, frozen on the last step.

 

"I'm aware of the rumours thanks to Niall's complete lack of tact and I'd like to put some of them to rest. The  _man_  I brought with me tonight is my everything, I almost lost him and I'll be damned if anyone in this room thinks a stupid rumour that I saved him or whatever bullshit will pull us apart. I came here tonight because he persuaded me to come. I came here with him because I listened when he said that this gala would be different. It seems like we were both wrong. It has been filled with the same cool politeness and snide backhanded compliments that these things are always filled with. Many of you, I adore and am thankful for your support and friendship, but I'm afraid that I won't be attending the next gala, and neither will my boyfriend." Blaine turned and watched as Kurt poured his heart out on stage and all the anger and resentment that had built up from years of enduring the people before him.

 

"Blaine is my best friend, my lover, my boyfriend, my  _soulmate_. He's extremely talented and I'm sure Maddison will agree, as handsome as a silver screen movie star. Many of you have his business card in your wallets because he's an artist and a damn fucking good one. I am so lucky to love him and have him love me back. He saved himself and that is why I will always love him, no matter what. It took me too long to say it. Embarrassingly, for a writer, it took me too long to find the words. Now I have them and I have just a few left. If you don't mind I'm going home, arm in arm with the man I love, thank you and goodnight."

 

A light smattering of applause followed them as they ran to each other. They met in an embrace and clung to each other, Blaine's face buried in the crook of Kurt's neck. Kurt pulled back and started placing kisses on every part of Blaine's face he could reach. It wasn't until that he could hear Blaine's quiet giggles that he stopped and just looked at him. He was smiling brightly, his honeyed hazel eyes glowing in the gold light cast by the ornate chandeliers.

 

"Let's go home." He said and took Kurt's hand in his.


	20. Chapter 20

They all but ran from the ballroom, feeling only fleetingly guilty about making such a scene but as they fell into a cab just outside, all remorse flew from their minds. Blaine was grinning so wide that Kurt barely had time to yell Blaine's address at the driver before he was hauling him in for a kiss. It wasn't much of a kiss, lips barely brushing due to Kurt's wide smile and Blaine's quiet giggling. Eventually they gave up, opting to just rest their foreheads together and tangle their fingers together between them on the back seat. "I love you so much." Kurt said squeezing Blaine's hand gently. Blaine's eyes fluttered closed and he breathed a sigh looking content and radiant as the city lights flashed across his face from the city outside. "I love you too." He replied, his smile softer as he leant back in for a kiss, slow and teasing, leaving that sweet burn coiling in the pit of Kurt's stomach.

 

"Buying that suit was the best idea I ever had." Kurt whispered leaning in to bite at Blaine's jaw. Blaine smiled, tilting his head back with a gasp.

"Oh yeah?" Blaine replied breathily. Kurt only hummed in response, working a mark into the skin just below his ear. "I-I think I have a better one."

"Hmmm?" Kurt hummed questioningly as he pulled back.

"When we get home, I think you should help me take it off."

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

The apartment seemed unnaturally still when they unlocked the door. Kurt's tie was loose around his neck and Blaine's bowtie was undone, shirt untucked and hair a mess. It was the loveliest thing Kurt had ever seen. He was still smiling, cheeks flushed as he sauntered toward the fire escape singing under his breath. Kurt stood for a minute, watching from the lounge as he leant against the railing, moonlight and neon signs throwing shadows across him. He watched as he stood there, shivering slightly in the October chill, wondering why he didn't see it sooner. One word circled through his mind as he went to join him, wrapping his arms around him like he had so many times before.

 

"What's your opinion on soul mates?" Kurt asked nonchalantly, heart beating as fast as the pulse of the city around them. He couldn't take his eyes off Blaine, watching as his eyes fluttered closed and he leant back into his arms, fingers tapping an idle rhythm against Kurt's wrist. "Before I met you I would've stuck my nose in the air and told you it was a saccharine cliché that couldn't be true, even if I was secretly praying I'd meet mine one day." Blaine said with an amused smile, his eyes still closed and his voice still quiet - barely audible above the sounds of passing cars and distant parties. Thinking about it Blaine had dabbled with cliché before, he was an artist, estranged from his parents and living in a tiny health and safety hazard of an apartment, he was living the beginning of every gritty romance novel. It was bizarre that thanks to Kurt, in many ways he actually was.

 

"But I'm a massive cliché, a blasphemous bohemian almost. So soul mates? They exist and I'm so happy I found mine." Blaine's smiled so wide turning in Kurt's arms and waited as Kurt attempted to swallow the lump in his throat. "That is the grossest thing anyone has ever said to me." Blaine's laughter was muffled by Kurt's lips upon his. He crowded him against the railing of the fire escape, a persistent hand at the small of his back encouraging him to arch into him with a whimper. Inhaling sharply, Blaine broke the kiss, still clutching on to Kurt's shoulders.

 

Startled Kurt made to pull back but Blaine whined, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck. "No no no I just we need to talk before we- you know, get carried away." Blaine rushed out.

"Right yeah," Kurt said quietly, smiling in relief and shifting from foot to foot. "Talk yeah."

 

Blaine looked down bashfully. "I'm sorry I ran when- when Niall said what he did. I know that you love me I know I promise. It's just- he's not the last person that's gonna think that you're too good for me or I'm too young or that I'm just using you for your money or fame or whatever. And I'd understand really, if you wanted more." Blaine didn't look up from where his eyes were glued to the metal beneath his feet. "You're such an idiot," Kurt said, tilting Blaine's chin up to look at him, "you're everything I want and more. I've messed this up so many times that hell I'm surprised you're sticking around. I don't care about what other people will say, or what they'll think. I love you, Blaine Devon Anderson, and don't you forget it." Blaine was quiet for a long time, sniffling intermittently.

"You always make me cry you fucking asshole." He chuckled wetly. Kurt took his hand and lead them back inside into the warmth.

"Sorry" he said quietly, looking as Blaine blinked up at him with molten gold eyes, "at least it's not because I broke your lamp this time."

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

They eventually made it to Blaine's bedroom, giggling as they kissed and grabbed at each other, tripping over wayward sketches and materials as they went. Blaine cheekily pushed Kurt down onto the bed with a kiss before turning and disappearing into his bathroom. Panting, Kurt took off his shoes and socks before spread eagling out on the bed grinning from ear to ear as he waited for Blaine to return.

 

He rolled his eyes at the sound of the shower running, but not long later Blaine came back into the bedroom smirk firmly in place as he held on to the towel on his hips. There was no hesitation in his eyes, as Kurt leant up and took away the towel, hands moving to skim the damp, smooth skin of his hips. "You should be wearing fewer clothes." Blaine said quietly as Kurt brushed his lips against his sternum. Kurt rested his head against Blaine's chest as he threaded fingers through his hair. He was relieved that he could hear that Blaine's heart was beating just as fast as his own. Blaine's skin was smooth and the smell of him was intoxicating. For a few moments all he could do was hold on, mapping the flawless tanned skin with his palms, disbelieving that any of it was real, that this man held him as his soul mate, as Kurt held him.

 

"As nice as this is," Blaine said his chest rumbling as he spoke, "I  _really_  think you should be wearing fewer clothes." Kurt chuckled and finally let go. He leant back to pull off his clothes whilst Blaine knelt on the bed watching him with a hungry gaze. As soon as Kurt's clothes hit the floor Blaine was climbing into his lap, kissing him hard and filthy with a barely restrained whine. "God" Kurt panted as Blaine's cock brushed his abdomen. He grabbed his ass as Blaine bit his lip, soothing the sting with his tongue.

 

They kissed frantically, gripping tight and bruising skin as they moved together. "Want you." Blaine muttered against Kurt's lips. He fumbled for the lube in the draw and hummed against the skin of Blaine's throat in triumph. Moments later Blaine had pulled back rising on his knees as he snatched the lube from Kurt's grasp with a devilish smirk. He was flushed from collar to navel, his dark hair wild and his pupils blown. His cock hung heavy in front of him, flushed red at the tip and glistening. Kurt felt as if his skin was on fire, eyes unable to look away from Blaine's as he coated his fingers and reached behind himself.

 

He let out a low moan as his index finger circled his rim and Kurt was in agony. Kurt longed to reach out and map every inch of him, but the look in Blaine's heavy lidded eyes told him no, to sit back and watch. So he did, he watched as Blaine fingered himself open, one hand holding himself steady as the other helped stretch him, fill him. By the time he'd reached three he was a wreck, lips parted and a whimper passing them with every pump of his fingers. Kurt could see the desperation in the line of his jaw and the pleasure in the scrunch of his brow, the frustration that that spot was just out of reach.

 

Kurt was sweating, his hands clenched in the sheets as he watched Blaine work himself over. Blaine arched his back with a cry, seemingly lost in feeling and Kurt snapped. He leant forward and pulled Blaine too him, kissing him fiercely. Blaine fell forward with a start, hastily wiping his hand on the bed spread before climbing back into Kurt's lap, his hands framing his face. "Please." Blaine whispered, as Kurt fumbled with a condom. Once situated Blaine rose up, positioning himself before sinking down onto Kurt's cock. They stilled, holding tightly to one another, breath harsh and damp against already sweat slick skin.

 

Kurt could feel the ache down to his bone, could feel the power in Blaine, even so undone, so vulnerable he was strong, unwavering as he began to move, slowly at first, feeling Kurt moving inside him, filling him up over and over. Kurt could do nothing but worship him, hearing Blaine's moans and gasps and whimpers echoing in his head as he sucked marks into his clavicle and pressed bruises into his hips. Blaine's back arched, his head thrown back as he slammed down, riding Kurt relentlessly, he felt his thighs start to burn but ignored it as the pleasure built and flared. Kurt thrust up into him, brushing that spot inside of him almost every other thrust. "Love you." Blaine panted, gripping Kurt's shoulders and leaving crescent shaped marks there with his finger nails. "Fuck, fuck me come on baby."

"So close." Kurt mumbled back, grabbing Blaine's hair roughly and dragging him in for a kiss, mouths wide and lips slick and bruised a cherry red. Blaine whimpered long and high as Kurt slammed into him, eyes screwed shut until the pleasure peaked and crashed through him. He came in thick pearly ropes, smearing against Kurt's abdomen. He rode it out, whispering for Kurt to come, to fill him up until Kurt arched, his cock pulsing inside him as he came, vision blurring as Blaine still moved slowly over him.

 

Kurt's head thumped back against the headboard, his eyes closed and he smiled as he heard Blaine's deep chuckle. He shifted and they both hissed, prompting Blaine to slip off of him and fall to the side, reaching for a tissue to clean them both up. Kurt just lay there, smiling stupidly with his eyes closed until Blaine came back and snuggled up next to him, his head resting on his chest. Kurt automatically wrapped his arms around him, holding him close.

 

"We are so gross right now." Blaine said quietly, his voice low and rough in the irresistible way it always was after sex.

"Shower in 5." Kurt replied, finally opening his eyes to look down and wink at Blaine "Don't let us fall asleep."

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

They fell asleep. Only for ten minutes but they still felt disgusting. Tired and sated they dragged themselves to the bathroom and showered together before throwing the sheets from the bed and settling back down.

 

In the quiet of Blaine's bedroom the events of the evening at the ball seemed almost insignificant. Blaine lay in Kurt's arms, no longer dreading the dawn but waiting for a new day with the love of his life and Kurt was likely doing the same. "Did you ever think," Kurt started, "that we'd ever get here?" Still slightly disbelieving that Blaine had forgiven him one more time. After a long pause Blaine replied. "I think Maggie did. She always knew what we didn't. She just wanted us to find our own way; though it hurt us both I think she thought it would be necessary so we could get to this point. Where we're happy and in love."

"God Maggie was a wise one." Kurt remarked.

"If by wise you mean a wiseass." Blaine added chuckling.

 

"I love you." Kurt said simply. "I don't think I've said it yet without some heartfelt speech but I do, love you I mean."

"I know."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

 

 

_‘"To live would be an awfully big adventure."'_


	21. Epilogue

Blaine used to hate Mondays. He used to hate having to get up early after the weekend and go to class for most of the day. But lately, Blaine loved Mondays. Mondays the store was open again. On Monday morning Blaine woke up to an empty bed, still warm on the left hand side from where Kurt had left it. He walked to The Fix, picked up some coffee and delivered it to the old bookstore across the street. The bookstore he just so happened to own with his boyfriend, novelist Kurt Elizabeth Hummel.

 

He loved Mondays and every other day of the week because he got to spend it in his favourite place in the world, with the man he loved. Kurt worked in the shop, writing as customers browsed or when business was slow. Blaine, after greeting Kurt with a kiss and a wink set off upstairs, to the office come studio that they had converted the upper floor into once they'd acquired the funds to renovate. They'd removed the heavy drapes from the windows to let the natural light in and part of Blaine's studio overlooked the store below. It was heaven for the both of them.

 

Heaven is not all angels and songbirds. They fought about the electricity bill and about the boy in the beanie and pea coat at the station when they were on their way back from an exhibit. They fought about how Kurt was at Thomas' until gone three in the morning and had sent Blaine not even a text. They fought about Blaine's job at Lucille's and how he may have liked the attention the stage afforded too much. They fought, and they cried and screamed their way into a new relationship. One where their differences were known and accepted, one where insecurities were voiced and feelings expressed. It shouldn't have been that difficult, they were both artists after all. They were each other's, completely, and that was their promise.

 

Blaine loved watching the hustle and bustle of the shop below from his balcony. He loved watching Kurt as he squinted at the screen in front of him, typing frantically or simply staring blankly, worrying at his lip. There were times, like when Maggie was around, that Kurt simply decided he'd had enough for the day. It was terrible for business of course, as James used to remind Maggie every time she locked the doors and flipped the sign before closing but it was always worth it.

 

Blaine would hear the bell above the door chime and the blind being rolled down and he'd wait patiently, ears straining for the sound of Kurt's feet against the metal spiral staircase. He always stood in the doorway for a while, watching as Blaine worked diligently on whatever piece he had been working on for the last few days, bathed in what remained of the natural light filtering through the windows. Sometimes Blaine got tired of trying to pretend he wasn't there and sometimes he didn't notice anything at all.

 

If Blaine didn't turn around within a couple of minutes Kurt knew not to disturb him. When Blaine got lost in his art there was no way of finding him again until he was satisfied. Not everything he did Blaine liked, and when he despised something he himself had made he always needed reminding that there was a reason he was an artist, to create and make mistakes so that new masterpieces could be discovered.

 

On one particular Monday Blaine turned to Kurt with a frown. "Why did you leave so early this morning?" He said and Kurt smiled devilishly, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt. "I have something to show you." Was all he said in reply and Blaine's eyes widened.

"If it's what I think it is I think I already saw plenty of it last night." Blaine added cheekily but he gasped as Kurt turned his back to him.

 

On his right shoulder blade was a tattoo, fresh, still shiny and raw looking but it was beautiful. It was an exact replica of the design Blaine had included in the sketchbook he had given to Kurt when he was leaving for Chicago. It was the image of an old brass compass, with arrows for pointers and a back plate like the night sky, complete with second star to the right. Around it, in letters written in what resembled fairy dust were the words, ‘For to have faith, is to have wings.'

 

"It's my design," Blaine choked, his eyes welling with tears "you got it you finally got it like you said you would."

"Of course." Kurt said soothingly, moving forward and wrapping his arms around Blaine's middle. "It's the perfect reminder that this," he squeezed Blaine's waist gently, "is forever."

"Ahh yes," Blaine replied smiling, "'and forever is a very long time Peter, didn't you know?'"

 

_‘"Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories."'_


End file.
